Weaver's Hands (Chronicles of Conversion Part 3)
by Aria2302
Summary: June, born in April, has had a rather unorthodox upbringing, but she tries not to let it get her down. The legacy of weaving goes back to the beginning of her family, and a totem that chooses the bearer. June must learn to navigate the expectations of that legacy, single-handedly. [Kuwabara/OC]. Chronicles of Conversion Part 3.
1. June, born in April

"She has the weaver's hands," my mother used to tell people. She would say it proudly – holding out my hands for the family to see, and people would nod approvingly. I did have weaver's hands, they agreed; long fingers, dexterous, and even as a very young child I worked hard with little details, and was gentle with delicate things.

My grandmother wasn't so easily convinced. She stared this way and that at my hands, turning them over, splaying the fingers, pulling at each one. Then she would stare long and hard into my eyes. Her answer was always the same: "maybe next year."

It always seemed to break my mother's heart. She would wander around the house for days afterward, scrubbing anything that I might touch so it would be clean. Consequently she would make sure I washed my hands over and over, convinced they were never clean enough.

I loved my mother very much, and I would do whatever she wanted. I washed my hands, and tried never to touch anything dirty, and listened when she babbled about my hands. I was very young, of course, so I don't remember much, but I remember that I loved my mother very much, and my mother loved my hands.

My mother was more and more insistent every year that I had weaver's hands, and my grandmother's insistence that I wasn't ready yet seemed to make her more unhinged every day.

There was one day – it was in March, and I remember it was very cold, and I was excited for my seventh birthday the next month. We had a big fireplace in my house, and there was always a roaring fire in the hearth. We had just come back from seeing my grandmother – eighth time in the last year – and she had rejected my hands again.

My mom made me wash my hands over and over and over that day, until the knuckles on one hand – my left hand – started to bleed. I tried to hide it – because I loved my mother, and I didn't want her to be upset – but she saw it anyway.

She started screaming, and crying, and apologizing. She ran to the kitchen, and I thought she was going to get our little first aid kit, so I waited by the fire. I didn't want her to worry; I just wanted her to be happy.

I loved my mother very much.

She came back from the kitchen with the biggest knife we owned. She told me to hold very still, and it was a sharp knife, and it wouldn't hurt bad. And she cut off my left hand, and threw it in the fire.

I loved my mother.

I cried and screamed and wailed, obviously, and she held me and tried to comfort me as best she could. I don't think she meant to hurt me. I think she was trying to help me the only way she knew how – by keeping her daughter's hands perfect.

She wrapped up the stump as tightly as she could, and we went to a hospital, leaving my hand to burn in the huge hearth fire. My mother was obviously arrested as soon as we got to the hospital, and the nurses realized what must have happened.

I wasn't there when she was arrested – I was getting my stump fixed up in an operating room by some very confused doctors. They hadn't seen a mother cut off her own daughter's hand before.

My grandmother came to see me after I woke up, and explained that my mother had gone away to get better. The wizened old woman examined my hand carefully. She examined the stump in the middle of my left forearm. She stared into my eyes.

She nodded.

"Now you will be a Weaver."

And so I went to live with my grandmother after I got out of the hospital. I'm not sure that's where I was _supposed_ to go, but that's where I went.

My grandmother lived in a very small house, and there were weaving supplies everywhere – I'm not joking, the stuff occupied every drawer and surface in that little mountain cottage. I could only assume at the time that she sold the tapestries and rugs and placemats she made for income, but they never seemed to go anywhere. They just took up more and more space. To give you an idea of how many there were, I had to sit on a pile of them to watch my grandmother weave in the one remaining chair that sat in front of her huge standing loom. There was a couch somewhere under the stack of tapestries, but I had to sit on the stack because the couch wasn't visible anymore.

I never got what would be considered expensive prosthetics. My grandmother always made sure the plastic hand was appropriately scaled to my growing size, but my repeated requests for a functioning replacement were turned down every time.

"It will make you lazy," she would chide, "and blind you to the Weaver's trade." I would try to argue that I needed _two_ hands to be a weaver, but she just shook her head. My grandmother made that excuse about everything I wanted to do – go play games with friends, wear fun colors, do _anything_ besides eat, sleep, go to school, and work with the lap-loom.

Oh, how I hated that thing.

"This is how all women in our family have learned to weave and so will you," my grandmother always said, right after I complained. You see, it's very difficult to operate a loom with only one hand. My stumpy arm could brace it ok, but operating the pieces was difficult. I won't go into it right now, but just assume that a dexterous activity like weaving usually involves the full use of both hands.

But, at eight years old, I wove the first placemat that met my grandmother's approval. I remember it had a blue warp, and a purple weft, so it kind of looked like a different color if you held it at an angle. My grandmother held it up to the light, her eyes glittered a little, and she smiled.

It was the first smile I remember seeing.

"Good," she had said, "now make me seven more. The table needs to match."

* * *

A/N: Hi everyone! I imagine the only people who will read this are already reading Parts 1 and 2 of the Chronicles of Conversion. This is short, yes, but I wanted it to just get the story started, and as a placeholder for the last part of the trilogy. This will be updated not too frequently, I imagine, until Part 2 is done, otherwise it will give too much away.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Fast Forward

**_Roughly ten years later_**

* * *

I stood at the bottom of an infinite set of stairs, staring up and up and _up_ as they vanished into thick greenery overhanging stone.

 _Yikes._

My feet hurt, and the bag cut into my shoulder. The stairs seemed insurmountable at the end of such a disastrous journey. I sat down on the bottom step, and set my map beside me. Time for a break.

It was quick work to shrug the bag from my shoulders and fish around for my last hunk of bread. I was fairly sure there was a salted fish somewhere in there too, but I didn't have the energy to go looking for it. I was alone with my snack, watching cars speed by in their haste. I wondered vaguely what kind of strange picture I made – clearly not a Japanese person, sitting on a long flight of stairs, eating half a loaf of bread with one hand.

It was a wonder more people didn't stare.

The bread went down quickly, too quickly, leaving me still hungry. Always hungry.

I dusted crumbs from my lap as I stood, trying to regain some sense of dignity. I took my time re-shouldering the backpack because _oh_ how I hated that bag. Not to mention I was delaying the inevitable climb.

I left the map at the bottom of the stairs. If I stayed, I wouldn't need it anymore. If she kicked me out, it would be waiting for me.

 _This is not the worst thing you've ever done_ , I mentally chided. _But it's still going to suck_.

I took the first step of ascension towards the Temple.

* * *

 _I grew up swiftly. While my grandmother varied my weaving tutelage as much as she was able, and my skills grew greatly, the world around me taught me much, much more._

 _School taught me that the world is cruel. It was in school that I learned I was a freak._

 _I came into school one day, smiling and waving at my friends. They smiled and waved back. I liked school a lot – if only because it broke up the monotony of weaving day in and day out. I wished that my grandmother would let me go out with friends – to do normal things. Even just buying whatever was the current fad would have helped, I thought._

 _It really wouldn't have mattered, I know now, because there was one thing I couldn't change about myself._

 _I stared down at my desk, eyes only barely focused._ _ **FREAK**_ _, it called me, scrawled in permanent marker. Big pen, too. I hung my bag on the side of the desk and opened my book over the epithet. Someone sniggered in the back of the room._

 _I felt cold inside. Numb._

 _What was I supposed to do? Our first teacher hadn't arrived yet. I didn't have anything to wash the marks off._

 _I didn't move from my desk all day. I ate lunch at my desk alone, even after my friends pushed theirs together. I waited for the last teacher to leave anxiously as I did my homework a few times over so they wouldn't look at me strangely, wondering why I hadn't left yet._

 _I waited a little too long to remove the marks, it seems, because no matter how hard I scrubbed after school, I could only sort of smudge the words. They were still pretty legible, though._

 ** _FREAK_**

 _I finally gave up on the desk, and just scribbled over the word with my best marker._

 _My grandmother – while an old curmudgeon – sensed something was wrong the instant I came home. "You should start working on tapestries today, I think," she nodded to herself thoughtfully, as if just coming up with the idea at that moment._

 _"I've been doing tapestries for years, Grandmother," I replied, barely looking up from my little lap loom. By definition, a tapestry is any weaving work where the vertical warp threads are completely concealed by the woven weft. I had been learning more and more complex weaving patterns, some of which annoyed me beyond belief – oh, how I wished for two hands again. I wished that often._

 _"No, you will make pictures now. Come, let me show you." She beckoned me closer to her huge standing loom with its vertical warp threads – hundreds of tiny, incredibly strong threads hung empty before her._

 _"Watch – I will only show you once," she warned me. This was common – my grandmother didn't like repeating herself, and so would only give me one lesson on any particular pattern before sending me off to struggle on my own. It was an effective way of teaching – it held my rapt attention, and then frustration tended to seal it into my memory as I struggled with it later. "To make complex images, you will weave color only as it is needed, then knot it away."_

* * *

I stumbled as I crested the final step, having been lost in my memory I didn't notice that the stairs had ended. My thighs and calves burned like molten iron, and no amount of massaging the muscles seemed to help. My legs were shaky and threatened to give out on me entirely, but I managed to stay standing.

I didn't have much time to observe my surroundings before a voice carried across the wide courtyard – yelling something in Japanese. A small woman with deeply grayed pink hair opened a shoji door and walked out onto the little porch that ran around the building.

She eyed me with a sharp, discerning look, and addressed me in Japanese. _I really should have learned more Japanese on the way_ , I thought to myself. _Too late now._ "Hi," I greeted. "I don't know if you remember me, but-"

Recognition flitted across her face, and she switched to Russian. "June Novak. I remember you. Where's your grandmother?"

I shifted from one foot to the other. "Yeah. She died."

Genkai grunted, and nodded. "How long ago?" She skipped entirely over the usual pleasantries and condolences with which I had become familiar. It was oddly refreshing.

I shrugged. "A few years? I'm not sure; what's today's date?"

She didn't answer my original question, and just charged forth with her own. "You never came back after that first visit. You've been alone?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I started working my way back here after she died."

"You walked?"

"If I couldn't hide on a train or something, yeah. But crossing borders was mostly walking. They check all of the cars, even cargo, at borders." I had learned that the hard way. It had been a hard one to explain.

Genkai crossed her arms tightly. "Why here?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Almost ten thousand kilometers of walking had brought me to that one point, standing in front of a grumpy old woman I had only met for three minutes a lifetime ago. "I thought… you seemed to know each other. You seemed to… to _know_." I pulled my familiar tiny bronze shuttle on its strong leather cording from underneath my oversized and patch-repaired sweater.

The old woman's eyes narrowed. "Show me," she demanded.

"Could I have something to drink first, maybe?" I was parched. That was something I never seemed to carry enough of – water is heavy.

She grunted. "No; do it now."

I grumbled something under my breath about demanding old people. The shuttle gleamed in the dimming evening light before I stole it away from the setting sun and clasped it tightly in my hand. I closed my eyes to focus and called to the shuttle.

* * *

 _I was fourteen when I got on my first airplane. It was exciting to fly to another country. The Czech Republic isn't exactly the hotbed of culture and excitement in the world._

 _Japan – it_ _ **was**_ _._

 _My Grandmother seemed to know exactly where she was going, even speaking not a word of Japanese beyond "go here" and pointing to an address scribbled on a map. She hadn't even bothered to learn "please" or "thank you"._

 _We hurried through the city without stopping at tourist destinations or cultural landmarks. Instead, we took the craziest cab ride out of town, stopping at the bottom of a near-infinite flight of stairs up and up and up into a thick forest._

 _My grandmother's tired limbs took quite some time to ascend, but once we were at the top there was already someone waiting for us. She was elderly like my grandmother, but with a significant amount of pink in her hair, strangely. "Master Genkai," my Grandmother greeted, bowing low and greeting her in Russian._

 _"Tkadlec," the tiny woman replied, using the old Czech title._

 _My grandmother waved a hand for me to step closer. "This is my granddaughter – bow, June." I bowed. "She will become Tkadlec after me."_

 _The woman raised a thin eyebrow. "Tired already, are we?" Genkai looked over her shoulder. "Now's not a good time." She turned to glare at my grandmother. "Your daughter should have inherited first, and we wouldn't be in this position." I was surprised that Genkai spoke Russian so fluently. I was more surprised that I had absolutely no idea what my grandmother and this woman were talking about._

 _My grandmother only sighed lightly, unoffended by Genkai's harsh words. "The shuttle rejected my daughter. I cannot help that she is not of sound mind."_

 _Genkai opened her mouth to respond but was drowned out by a loud crashing and angry bickering erupting through the open door behind her. There seemed to be a lot of commotion around this temple. I tried to lean to one side to peer into the temple, but Genkai snapped a glare at me. "Don't be nosy."_

 _I lowered my gaze to my shoes. "I was just wondering-"_

 _"Zip it." She looked back at my grandmother. "Do you still have the skill?"_

 _My grandmother shook her head. "The threads hide from me now. They have for years."_

 _Genkai looked down at me. "She only has one hand. How does she weave?"_

 _That was always the comment that set me off. "Just fine, thank you," I snapped. I reached into my bag and pulled out my ribbon tapestry._

 _I was fairly proud of it – working with a lap loom limited my ability to make anything thicker than about a foot but I could go on and on forever in length. This particular tapestry was about a foot wide, and twenty-three feet long. As it was rolled out it depicted the Japanese creation myths, and it was at that moment the most complex thing I had ever made._

 _I snapped out the roll, letting the twenty-three-foot long tapestry bounce out over the courtyard, bumping up against Genkai's feet. She looked down and raised an eyebrow. "Roll that up before it gets dirty," she commanded. I flushed with shame._

 _So much for a demonstration._

 _Genkai talked briefly with my grandmother as I rolled up the tapestry awkwardly. She spared me a single glance, and it seemed mildly amused. "Start her on the high-weft soon, and come see me in two years."_

 _And then we left Japan. We had traveled all across the continent for a three-minute face-to-face with a tiny Japanese woman. We didn't even stay the night – landed, went to the temple, turned around and came home all within five hours._

* * *

The fierce blue glow hardly seemed to disturb her – she didn't even bat an eye. "That's enough, let it go," she waved a hand dismissively. I released the shuttle, and it fell back against my chest, pulling tight on the leather cording. I was impressed at my own stamina – I hadn't even broken a sweat.

"You've come a long way."

I wasn't sure if she meant literal distance crossed, or in ability, but both seemed appropriate. "I have."

She gave me an appraising look and then made a sort of scoffing sound. "You look starved, girl."

I shrugged it off easily. "I haven't eaten well on the road. I mostly got what people threw at me, or what could be easily bartered for." To that effect, almost all of my personal belongings had been traded away at some point for a meal. Even my immobile prosthetic hand had been traded far, far back on the road. Not that I needed it anymore anyway.

Genkai threw a hand over her shoulder as she turned, beckoning me to follow. "There was another girl living here, but she left a day or so ago. You'll take her room."

"I don't have any money," was my lame protest.

Genkai shot back a look of _you don't think I know that?_ "You'll work around the temple."

"Okay."

So I stayed, and the map at the bottom of the stairs was never retreived.

* * *

A/N: I'm changing up my usual linear writing style, otherwise we'd be stuck with June in the Czech Republic for far too long, and it's all just expositional junk anyway. Instead, you all get to be confused as it gets doled out piecemeal. But it'll be fun!

Many thanks to my reviewers: MM(guest), I-am-a-smart-cookie, Counting Sinful Stars, otterton, LunaFisto, Youko-Fairy, rubytwili18, and Ilovedarkpasts!

PLEASE REVIEW!


	3. The Things We've Lost

I loved making tapestries, and I _hated_ tapestries. Ever tried tying a knot with one hand? Making tapestries is almost nothing _but_ knotting. My grandmother let me marinate in my frustration as I adapted.

I think the tapestries I made could be considered beautiful. I definitely had favorites, if only because of the incredible complexity. I wove gold-dipped threads into my suns, and tiny touches of silver in my snows.

My grandmother would always let me get lost in my work. I could work for hours – on more than one occasion I worked through the night, and into the next day. She didn't interrupt me to go to school or to remind me to eat – _nothing_. After twenty-three hours straight, I finally leaned back to crack my back, and she handed me a glass of water.

She never interrupted me for anything. The house could have been burning down and she would have let me just keep on weaving. It also says something about me that I don't think I would notice the house burning down around me if I was weaving at the time.

All that aside, I was allowed to struggle and focus on my craft when I lived with my grandmother. This helped greatly when it came to learning the new and strange language that was Japanese. There aren't a lot of Russian to Japanese or Czech to Japanese dictionaries, so I was left translating using English as an intermediary. And I had never learned English, which just made life _interesting_.

Genaki wasn't the most helpful person in the world either. Each day started with her pointing at a room, and was followed by the simple command of "clean it". That was typically the extent of my interactions with the woman.

I was fine with solitude; I was more than familiar with it by then, and it gave me a chance to actually work at a new skill – wrapping a tongue more familiar with Cyrillic languages into a Japonic frame.

Yippee.

But being busy was better than remembering.

* * *

 _I was overflowing with anger and grief and a bitter, awful hatred. I stomped through the cottage, pulling down tapestries and rugs and anything else my grandmother had touched, and making a heaping pile. I dragged piles outside, making one heaping pile that looked larger than my bedroom._

 _It took several trips, and I didn't notice when the angry tears stopped pouring down my cheeks. Tapestries and weaving threads and wood shuttles had occupied every available surface of that little cottage. It had been my grandmother's entire world._

 _"I hate you!" I screamed at no one._

 _I stomped back into the house, hiccupping in time with the bronze shuttle bumping against my sternum. I pulled a piece of burning wood from the fire with the tongs and threw it on the massive pile that represented my grandmother's entire life. It caught in only a moment, and the pile roared into life, fire twisting high and bright in the deep shadows of the night._

 _I marched back into the cottage and hefted my over-stuffed backpack high on my shoulder. I pulled the last burning log from the fireplace and leaned it against the heavy drapes. I rushed out of the cottage as the drapes swiftly caught; the rest of the building was surely soon to follow._

 _The shuttle weighed heavy around my neck, dragging me down. I collapsed on the bare earth surrounding my grandmother's burning home, arms braced around my head as I sank lower into a tight ball. I wept bitter, angry tears, and the forest around me offered no consolation._

 _I allowed myself a few moments of rough despair and then did my best to shake it off. It did me no good to mourn the dead._

 _I stood, brushed off my hand and knees, and walked on into the darkness, shadows stretching long as cast by the blazing fires behind me._

* * *

Genaki grunted her greeting as I shuffled into the sparse dining area, my toes just peeking out from underneath the pajama pants Genkai had thrown at me when I arrived. The old woman was the strangest pack rat; able to produce all manner of clothing and toiletries from the strangest of places. It made me wonder how many 'strays' she had taken in over the years.

I grunted my reply as I sat on the floor, setting my bowl on the low table. I was still acclimating to the change in diet so my breakfast was still limited to just rice and miso soup. I missed my dark bread, butter, and cheese. Oh, how I _missed_ dairy products!

Genkai glanced at me with concealed amusement. I was not a morning person, even though I had the tendency to rise with the sun; it made for a funny, grumpy picture. My good hand pulled the bowl a little closer on the table for easy enjoyment, and my stump rested on my lap under the table.

Any comment that was lingering in the air dissipated when the shoji door to the main hall opened without warning.

The man that stood awkwardly in the doorway was an impressively tall drink of water – especially for Japan. His shock of semi-bleached orange hair seemed almost out of place paired with his rough-cut face and warm brown eyes.

But I passed over so much of this when he appeared and his feelings washed over the room. He looked heartbroken. He was holding a bouquet of quickly wilting flowers, and looked so… lost. Genkai spoke to him in her softest gruff tone, not looking up from her tea at the table. I might have thought she was speaking to me, had she not been speaking Japanese.

I was still learning, and only caught a few words passed from one to another.

"( _something that sounded like a name_ ) not here ( _something something something_ ) home," Genkai said.

The man nodded. "I ( _something_ ) hope ( _something something_ ) give expressions."

But I was probably way, _way_ off.

Genkai spoke faster, and I couldn't catch a single word. The tall man sighed deeply, shoulders sagging low. They glanced back at me in unison.

I know how it must have looked. I was obviously not whatever Japanese girl he was looking for – much too tall, hair the color of a church mouse, and eyes a deeply muddled green. My nose was too wide, and my jaw too square to be mistaken for anything less than eastern European.

He was clearly here to see someone, as evidenced by the flowers in his hands, and they weren't here. I could see the hope die in his eyes, and it broke my heart.

Genkai jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the tall man. "This buffoon is Kazuma Kuwabara. Remember to use his last name or he'll think you're rude."

She addressed Kazuma, and I heard my name thrown in there, with the name order reversed. _Novak June_.

"Hi," I greeted. To him, it would have sounded like " _priviet"._ I waved; a casual, sloppy salute with my good hand. I left my stump on my lap under the table, out of sight. No need to get stares from strangers this early in the morning.

" _Ohayō_ _."_ He tucked his chin in a restrained bow. I assumed that was a hello.

"Is he okay?" I asked Genkai, not nearly confident enough in my Japanese to ask him myself.

"He's fine," she grumbled. "He's leaving." She barked something at Kazuma, a little less gently than before, and he tucked his chin, a shadow falling over his eyes. My chest ached a little when he left without another word. A few flower petals drifted in the air as he quietly shut the shoji door behind him.

"What happened?" I asked, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"Didn't your grandmother ever teach you to keep your nose out of other people's business?" Genkai glowered at me. "You never told me what happened to your grandmother."

The lurch of topic threw me for several moments, in part because Genkai had never asked after my guardian. I was slow to recover because of the rock that settled in my throat at the thought of her face. "She died." I stared intently at my bowl of rice. "I killed her."

Genkai nodded once; she understood my meaning. "But you have what you need?"

I nodded sharply, once. "Yes, my mother told me the rest."

* * *

 _My mother sat silently across from me, indifferent to the story of her mother's passing. It wafted past and through her like aether, leaving her untouched by my grief. It was mostly due to her medicated state, I was certain. The psychiatric facilities in the Czech Republic weren't the best, but it always could have been worse. She had never been the same after I was taken away from her and she was locked behind several sets of heavy doors._

 _She had loved me, once. I never stopped loving my mother._

 _"I have to go far away, Maminka," I said softly._

 _She lifted her head just a touch and blinked up at me with wide eyes. "Are you coming back?"_

 _"No," my answer was blunt to spare my own feelings._

 _She nodded slowly, lowering her head to return her stare to the tiny bronze object hanging around my neck. She was fixated on it; I could see its warm light reflected in her bright eyes. She whispered something so lightly under her breath that I didn't hear her at all. "What did you say?" I leaned across the table to hear her better and that's when she struck._

 _She leaped across the table and seized me by both upper arms, pushing me back against my chair as she kneeled on the table. Her face was close to mine and I could see her eyes were wide, pupils shrunken to the tiniest of pinpoints. My mother gripped my arms with the fury of God's own angels. "Three things you will need to weave the world," she hissed; her breath a little sour as it wafted over me._

 _Someone pushed an alarm button, and I could hear the ringing at the orderly's station. "What do I need?" I asked calmly, not fighting her grip._

 _She licked her lips, leaning forward until her forehead pressed against mine. "First: the Lion whose tears fall across rivers."_

 _I nodded, and my forehead pushed her back just a shade. "You said that's the first of three; what's next?"_

 _Her hands shook with the exertion of holding me so tightly. "Next: the Raven whose cry summons the world." At this point the orderlies pounced, wrenching my arms from her hands with enough force to break her fingers._

 _She cried out in pain, and I stood sharply to stop them. "Don't hurt her!" No one listened to the fifteen-year-old, of course. She was hauled off by her armpits, kicking and screaming. "What's the third thing I need?!" I shouted over the din, and hoped she could hear me._

 _My mother struggled valiantly against the orderlies, calling over their heads. "Last: the Star whose light will guide you home_!"

 _Even through my chunky wool sweater, I could feel the shuttle pressing against my sternum. It was pleased and somehow I knew that. I didn't stay long after she was carried away; I didn't want to be questioned by management and detained. And they would try._

 _I gathered my backpack from the shrubbery outside the facility where I had carefully hidden it and started walking._

 _East._

* * *

A/N: And we have a little more of the story.

I'm spending more time on this instead of PBP just because I'm trying to get a few plot points straight in my head before PBP continues much further. Writing this is a way to keep _writing_ , instead of just vanishing for a month or two at a time.

Many thanks to my reviewers: rezgurnk and Mr. Khorne!

PLEASE REVIEW!


	4. Blue

Genkai interrupted my cleaning of the morning by seizing the bucket of warm soapy water right out of my hand. She set it down forcefully so that it sloshed around, threatening to ruin her tatami mats. "Follow me," she barked, not bothering to ensure I followed.

I made no comment as I followed her around several tight corners. She drew me into a side room and closed the door behind her. The room was nearly empty, save for a small vase on a low table in the center of the small space. It held three flowers, all in some late stage of decay. "Weave for me," the old woman commanded.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "No," I replied with similar force. "I don't weave anymore." Even as I said it, my fingers itched to weave again.

Surprise flashed briefly across Genkai's face, then confusion, followed by an almost outright hostility. "Then why bother showing me in the first place?"

I shrugged one shoulder. "So you would understand why I came. No other reason."

Genkai looked like she wanted to roll her eyes, but it came out more as a frustrated glare. "This is not something you _choose_. And you still wear the shuttle – why bother?"

My expression twisted into a snarl. "If I try to remove it, the shuttle will conceal itself from me. I can't get rid of it, but I _can_ choose not to use it." I flicked the bronze shuttle irritably beneath my sweater as it grew hot against my skin. "It makes it angry, but it can't force me to act against my will."

"And you would let the world fall apart?" Genkai shook her head disapprovingly. "That's not what your grandmother wanted for you."

"How would you know? I didn't _choose_ to be Tkadlec. No one _asked_ if it was _okay_ that I be dragged into this idiotic legacy. My grandmother _died_ because of this. There's no other reason – _this 'gift' killed her_. And you can't argue – _you know the cost_." All the world's pain and all the world's love wouldn't change that fact. My actions one way or another wouldn't change the fact that my grandmother had died purely and solely because of our heritage. Because of **_it_**.

Genkai nodded once, slowly. "Yes. I know the cost."

My chin ticked up slightly in a stiff motion of acknowledgment. "So you understand. I will bear the shuttle. I will not use it. I will let this godforsaken legacy die with me."

Genkai was horrified. "Can you even begin to comprehend how many lives your grandmother saved? How many paths she redirected? How many lives you might save?" She stood close, looking down her nose at me. "Have you any comprehension as to the lengths of that ability?" A little of her anger ran out, and she picked up the vase of dead flowers. Her voice was a little softer; tinged with regret. "Why bother learning of the three totems if you won't use them?"

"I know everything I need to know to avoid my fate. I reject that life utterly and completely. I will not seek the three totems I need to Weave the World. I will not weave a single thread that is laid before me. I will not bear a daughter to carry on my line; I won't curse another soul. I'll let you hate me. I'll let this _thing_ hate me; I can take it."

The old woman lit with fury; she slammed the vase back down on the low table so hard that it cracked. Water started leaking out onto the table. "How selfish are you?" Her face fell into a sneer. "Is this some misplaced self-pity for your poor hand?" She scowled and shook her head. "Your grandmother would be ashamed of you."

The shuttle trembled against my skin, and I pressed my hand against my chest to steady it. "This has nothing to do with my hand. If I wanted to weave, I would. If I had no hands at all, I could use my feet. If you cut off my hands, I would find a way to weave with my mouth. Do not think this defiance is from self-pity for a mild inconvenience. You may call me weak or selfish, but I am strong. I am strong enough to end the slavery of my family to a small petulant toy. It may have begun with Dusana, but it will _end_ with _me_."

* * *

 _"Are you alright, Babushka?"_

 _"I am tired, June. My old bones have done too much, and worked too long." She sighed deeply, sinking further back into her large armchair. I had cleared off the deep recliner for her in recent months as she grew weaker, but the process of her aging had seemed to accelerate in recent months._

 _She pressed a few fingers lightly on her sternum, fingers pressing into the tight knit of her heavy sweater. I knew what she was longing to touch under the fabric – the shuttle. It must have been speaking to her again. She said it liked to talk._

 _"Tonight you will weave greatest for me, June." My grandmother smiled at me. I reached for the loom on the floor and she stopped me with a firm hand. "No – just the shuttle." She held out the little bronze tool – passed down from mother to daughter, untouched by the hands of sons and fathers._

 _My hand trembled as I grasped it – I had never touched it before. It grew instantly hot in my hand, and though I hissed in pain I knew better than to drop it. The smile turning at the corners of my Grandmother's mouth told me I was correct._

 _The bronze shuttle spanned the width of my hand – too small for real work. The small rotating pin in the center of the oblong shape would only hold a few yards of thread at the most. The tiny pin began to spin wildly, as one might when adding a thread to weave. It glowed blue as it spun faster and faster before my eyes. My skin grew hot all over, and there was an explosion of light behind my eyes. Or at least I thought it had been behind my eyes._

 _My grandmother stood slowly from her deep recliner, still unsteady on her feet. "Now," my grandmother instructed, a thin sheen of sweat on her face, "take my hand." She clasped my hand, the shuttle suspended in the cradle of our hands. "Watch; and remember well, June."_

 _My grandmother threw her head back as though accelerating through time and space. A blue star spun into creation behind her, occupying space between her shoulder blades and growing into a little orb, then a bowling ball, larger and larger._

 _It spun off arms like a hurricane, but even as those grew larger their outlines started to convalesce into something sharper and more certain of the space they occupied. Now an arm – a human arm – had taken shape, followed by another. The heart of the hurricane snapped into the shape of a torso, though smoked into uncertainty below a willowy waist. A head rose from the heart and lifted its chin, tossing back long billowing hair – much in the same way my grandmother's head had snapped backward – and its lips parted into an inaudible sigh._

 _Not it –_ _ **her.**_

 _We three took up all of the remaining space in the little cabin, though it now felt as wide as the universe. She cast a bright sapphire glow around the room, throwing darkness where once there had been light, making specters of our dancing shadows. She smiled fondly down at my grandmother, who turned and returned the affectionate gaze. "I have called her Odegra, for she does not tell us her name. Each Tkadlec gives her a new name."_

 _Odegra rested a gentle hand on my grandmother's shoulder as though comforting her. Her second hand – left hand – lowered to rest on my shoulder. It burned – hotter than flesh ever should._

 _My grandmother looked paler than I remembered, but Odegra's blue light gave off such a chilly pallor to all that was around her._

 _"Look, June," my grandmother redirected my attention by lifting our joined hands. Odegra looked forward over the 'v' of our arms and her hair clouded into a thick veil as though she sat underwater. I followed their combined gaze upwards and out the open front door of the little cabin._

 _My heart clenched in my throat at the unexpected beauty. I could see a new universe – the true form of our universe – suspended and curling and weaving and unraveling and reforming itself infinitely through time and space. My eyes watered as I dared not blink and miss a moment._

 _My grandmother reached forward our combined hands, compelling Odegra to raise her hands as well. Using the spectral blue arms as a second pair, my grandmother reached into the infinite and grasped a thread. "By loom and lore, June," My grandmother's voice was raspy, "we shape the world."_

 _She pulled gently on the thread to unravel the pattern, and I could see_ _ **through**_ _the pattern as a tree across the yard shuddered and shook. Swiftly, so the tree did not suffer, my Grandmother whirled the pattern free into a frenzy of loose threads. Swift as lightning she had re-woven it with Odegra's hands. A new pattern – so similar and yet new to the original – snapped into place with a final flourish. The tree in the yard shuddered and sighed again, although it was now changing. Bright white blooms exploded from every branch as the tree instantly came into season. The air sang with intoxicating perfume, and pollen rained from the tree with the force of its creation._

 _The sight alone of the violently white blossoms was breathtaking, but with the shuttle in my hand I could see the essence of them – the desperate desire to fruit and procreate, reaching for sun and sky eternally. There were a thousand paintings each touching me in the deepest recesses of my adolescent brain. My eyes watered and ran of their own accord; a furtive attempt from my body to produce a reaction worthy of that fervent declaration of passion._

 _"Keep looking forward, June," my grandmother urged, her voice growing weaker. "For…ward…" Odegra released my grandmother's shoulder, and she crumpled to the ground as though shot. "Babushka!" I cried, though it did not stop her from falling._

* * *

A/N: Even knowing that she was already dead, did it hurt? Short chapter here, but lots of plot goodness.

Odegra's name is stolen from a Neil Gaiman/Terry Pratchett book. Described as: "The technical term for it is infrablack. It can be seen quite easily under experimental conditions. To perform the experiment simply select a healthy brick wall with a good runup, and, lowering your head, charge. The color that flashes in bursts behind your eyes, behind the pain, just before you die, is infrablack."

This story is being updated in congruence with Part 2, as finishing one completely before the other would give away some pretty significant plot points (which is no fun).

Many thanks to my reviewers: Mr. Khorne, Taylor, DoppleGengar, .life, rubytwili18, Snowgirl7589, FireDancerNix, PrinceMaoyan, and LunaFisto!

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	5. Not Alone

Genkai wouldn't speak to me. Due to some sort of fury or intense disappointment I was certain; I was all but waiting for her to tell me to pack my little backpack and leave the Temple. I wouldn't have been surprised, but since the order didn't come immediately, nor the day after, I went back to my cleaning routine.

Genkai had a surprising amount of visitors for someone who lived out in the middle of nowhere. I did my best to make myself scarce whenever they dropped by – a girl with blue hair, two girls with brown hair; they arrived in various combinations and numbers – and Genkai didn't make a point of calling me over to introduce them so I assumed it didn't matter. I was the random hobo living in her proverbial attic, no need to frighten the guests.

It wasn't any lonelier than I had experienced on the road to Japan, only now I had a roof over my head and could count on my next meal. It was nice – it gave me time to think. I liked thinking and cleaning at the same time, and _boy_ did Genkai make sure I had enough to clean.

I think she had me wash every used and kind of old and brand new and never used futon and blanket that existed in the Temple every few days. I think she strangely enjoyed watching me carry the huge mounds from washing to hang out to dry, getting myself half-soaked in the process.

I was hanging bedding to dry when the sad young man returned to the Temple a few days after my argument with Genkai. It was barely an "intermediate" on my personal difficulty scale, even though the soaked bedding was beyond heavy. They were an interesting cross between a sleeping bag and a mattress, and weighed as much as the latter.

He walked up the stairs with surprising ease – I knew how interminably long those stairs were, and how tired _I_ had been after the ascent. He seemed barely phased – like he could do it on autopilot. His hands were tucked in his pockets, and he glanced around the courtyard – looking for Genkai, I assumed – but spotted me instead. There was something different about him, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Granted, I had only seen the man once before so there wasn't much to go on.

"Hello," I greeted in Japanese. I hoped the conversation would be brief, as my Japanese was still quite limited. As Genkai no longer barked at me in either Russian or Japanese, I only had myself to practice with.

He rattled off something too fast for me to catch, withdrawing his hands from his pockets as he approached. The little clothesline was set not too far from the courtyard, with heavy posts set deep into the soil while still ensuring the line remained in the sun. The shade from the surrounding forest reached for the laundry every day, but whoever had dug these posts had chosen a good spot.

"Sorry," I apologized, "talk slow, please. Sorry." I'm sure my accent was atrocious.

"Ah, Sorry." Apologies all around, it seemed. "Do you want help?" he offered, already reaching for the heavy blanket in my arms.

I shook my head, taking a small half-step backwards. "No, thank. I work good." It was horrible communication; I could comprehend more than I could speak and it made me sound like a two year-old child any time I opened my mouth. I turned my back on him to continue hanging the bedding, hoping he would take it as a signal to go away. I didn't want to be rude, but I also didn't need his help.

As I draped the wet blanket over the taut clothesline I smoothed it with my hand and left forearm. I didn't really think about the action – it was the same motion anyone else might make to smooth out wrinkles; mine just happened to be with one hand.

I felt his stare before I saw it. Call it a sixth sense, but I always knew when people were staring at my arm. "Half-good." I added to my original statement, throwing a knowing look and a grin over my shoulder.

He flushed red straight down to his toes with shame, I was sure of it. "Sorry ! Sorry! _Sorry!_ " He repeated, his pitch growing higher and more frantic. He started gibbering again, bowing repeatedly with his hands pressed together, speaking far too fast for me to follow a single word.

I smiled in my friendliest fashion. "Is ok. No bad."

Genkai barked across the open grass, summoning Kazuma with practiced ease. He scurried across the lawn and courtyard in a gentle lope of someone who has only recently learned to coordinate their limbs smoothly, and is enjoying their newfound grace.

Genkai and Kazuma spoke in reserved voices; she looking admonishing, he appearing to be somewhat apologetic. They shared the bond of history - a light that exists between familiar people. It says ' _hello, we carry these moments together with our presence, and attention. It will live in both of our memories'._ I missed that light. I missed sharing a _knowing_ with someone.

To my surprise, Kazuma soon jogged back across the open space. His face didn't carry the usual flush of someone unfamiliar with mild activity, so I assumed he must have been at least somewhat athletic. He pulled the heavy bedding from the large basket, and proceeded to hang it for me. "No, no, is ok," I protested, trying to pull it back from his hands.

He fixed me with a serious look and spoke slowly for my benefit. "I was really rude, so I'll help. You can take it all down and redo it later if you want, but I'm gonna help now." He turned and resumed hauling the sopping wet bedding over the clothesline.

I wasn't really sure how to reply. I decided to tag it as an aggressively chivalrous attitude and let it go without further comment. "Ok. Thank."

"Thank you," he corrected gently, without a trace of disrespect.

"Thank you," I mumbled under my breath.

"Kuwabara Kazuma," he introduced himself.

"Ju- ah, Novak June."

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice meet."

We hung the rest of the washing in silence. After the basket was emptied Kazuma picked it up instantly and started back towards the temple. It was difficult for me to keep up with his long strides – the man was a full head and shoulders taller than me. He set the basket on the edge of the temple porch, and sat on the edge. I joined him, not knowing how to end the interaction without seeming rude.

I wasn't exactly accustomed to spending much more than a few minutes with any one person that I met. When I had stayed in placed for an extended period it was either due to necessity or incarceration. Unaccompanied foreign minors raise quite a few eyebrows.

Kazuma cleared his throat sharply. "Where is your family from? I don't recognize the accent."

"No family." I tried to say it without care – throwing it out into the conversation without emotion. But that meant it just landed flat, without affect, obviously different from all previous tone.

Kazuma titled his head forward and to the side simultaneously. "I-wait-what-? So you're alone?"

I nodded. "Yes. No talk." It was painful, to say the least. There was my grandmother, and my mother. Both diametrically different reasons to feel guilty and ashamed of my actions, and angry about the burden placed on my family. It was much too dark a topic for a lovely day.

"Sorry." He grew instantly quiet, but it sat heavily in the air for more than a few moments. I realized he thought I had completely shut him down, and I tugged on his sleeve.

"No talk _that_. Talk ok. Hard, sorry." I waved a hand in front of my face like a fluttering bird. The words I wanted so often escaped me, and it was frustrating to communicate as such a basic level.

"No, you're doing really good," he protested swiftly.

I beamed a little at his praise. "I learn fast. Hard to make Russian to Japanese."

This seemed to spark his interest. "Oh – so that's what you were speaking earlier! Are you from Russia?"

"No, Czech Republic." He seemed confused, but I didn't have a good enough grasp of Japanese to explain the cultural history of the two countries.

"Have you ever been to Russia?"

My eyes darkened. "Yes. No good there."

* * *

 _The Russian soldier's grip around my arm was fiercely tight, and he cared little that he was gripping the fragile one. He marched me through the front door, which wasn't nearly wide enough to accommodate two people, banging my other arm against the doorjamb. My hiss of pain went ignored as I was shoved down into a stiff chair in front of a little desk. Across from me was a frazzled-looking woman. "Name," she demanded._

 _I stayed silent. The soldier jostled my shoulder a little but I recoiled from his touch, my lip curling into a snarl. The frazzled woman behind the desk sighed impatiently. "Give me your name or I will make one. I promise you will not like it."_

 _I stayed defiantly silent. She shrugged. "_ _Sobaka it is, then," she said without a trace of emotion. Dog. "Welcome to Volograd. Behave, or you will not like what happens."_

 _It was just one long room, stuffed end to end with beds. There were a few small doors at the far end of the hall – more like pantry doors than real entries – and I knew what they were for. I would behave._

 _I could hear children crying in the next room. A morbid curiosity overcame me and I wandered from the older hall into the room filled with four and five year-olds. Children lay screaming in their soiled clothes on bare rubber mats Unable due to disability or mental delay to pull themselves out of the filth and ask for assistance, all they could do was scream. No one was coming to answer their screams. No one held them and rocked them into peace._

 _I recoiled, gagging at the odor, and retreated from the room. The shuttle buzzed angrily against my chest – at the home, at the state of the children, at my inaction. But there was nothing that I could really do. This was an imbetsil internaty house – free of the typical regulations that surrounded and protected orphans of the state. We were the discarded, the useless, the obstinate. We were the lost; the_ _ **made**_ _lost. By fortune of fluent Russian and a familiar facial structure I was not instantly labeled as a foreigner, but instead one of these forgotten waifs._

 _There was nothing I could do for a hundred suffering children. One, maybe, I might have been able to help; to correct their brain's chemistry back to acceptable Russian function. I couldn't help a hundred._

 _I would leave in the night, as I always did. I would find the place between the walls that was most willing to let me pass, and I would be gone. I wouldn't be missed._

* * *

I had been so lost in my memory that it took "Sorry; I didn't mean to bring up bad memories," Kazuma sighed, looking sheepish. It was when he fluffed the back of his hair nervously for the thirtieth time or so that I finally put my finger on what was different.

" _Hair!_ " I exclaimed, pointing rudely. His punk semi-bleached horribly orange hair had been dyed closer to a respectable brown. Still far from its natural color, I was sure, but it was a far sight better than before.

Kuwabara froze in place at my outburst. "Huh? Oh, yeah – I thought a change might- I don't know. You don't think it looks weird?"

I shook my head. "Only weird to you as is new. I think…" I tilted my head to one side. "I think is _krepkiy."_ For lack of knowing the proper adjective I filled in the Russian word. Before he could ask, I puffed myself up like a little cartoon soldier, and beat my chest with a tight fist: _strong, tough._

Kazuma nodded, running a hand half through the back of his hair before realizing what he was doing, and he dropped his hand down to his side. "I guess I should get going." He nodded to himself, standing from the porch. His feet had always touched the ground, whereas mine only swung in the air. "How do I say goodbye in Russian?"

" _Proshchay."_ Kazuma parroted me a few times before he was certain he had the pronunciation down.

" _Proshchay,_ Novak _,"_ he waved.

"Sayonara," I replied. The shuttle hummed against my bare chest beneath the many layers of clothing. I tapped it with an irritated hand; _keep your opinions to yourself._ But it had been nice to talk to someone who didn't want anything from me. Genkai hated that I wouldn't use the shuttle, and the outside world had been no different in its wants and desires.

* * *

 _I slipped from underneath the single sheet on my cot in the dead of night. The floor was lit only with spotty moonlight breaking through the dingy windows._

 _A hand caught mine as I stood before the wall, and pleading eyes gleamed bright with tears. "Take me with you," the figure begged. In the darkness they were an androgynous being composed only of dirt and melancholy. I pulled my hand violently from hers and clasped the shuttle. The bright blue glow blinded them, and they staggered backwards._

 _In the sudden gleaming parts of the wall slid out of my way thread by thread, and I vanished into the night, slipping from yet another prison into the empty night. I could hear them wailing from the other side of the wall._

 _I don't remember their face. I don't want to remember their face._

* * *

A/N: June makes a friend? I mean, this is a Kuwabara/OC story, so _duh_. I hope I'm at least making it somewhat realistic. And ok – before you jump down my throat for changing Kuwabara's hair, by this point he has passed the age at which people typically like bleaching their hair all the god damn time. And it's not like he dyed it back to black, so chill in advance.

Many thanks to my reviewers: FireDancerNix, typiicaltaylor, and Miqila!

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	6. Falling

_I was attempting my second cross of the border between Kazakhstan and China. The trick to crossing borders illegally is avoiding traditional "borders" with checkpoints and guards. Luckily, much of Eastern Europe and Asia share large arboreal forests and grasslands, typically designated as national parks. Trees have no regard for borders, so it's mostly a matter of crossing in a particularly large park that doesn't monitor daily in-and-out traffic very well. It also requires being particularly hardy to the weather._

 _I was an odd picture to be sure – wrapped in the thickest blanket I could carry, partially dusted with snow. My nose ran constantly from the cold, though I could hardly feel it any more. Blue burned hot against my chest; she desperately wanted to help._

 _But the nightmare didn't follow history. I didn't give in and summon her to warp the world for warmth. I didn't curl up against the base of a tree, comforted by the fire. I didn't spend the night wondering if the trade of a little life had been worth it._

 _Instead I collapsed in the snow, numb hand clawing at the many layers of sweaters I wore, searching for the shuttle. My hands didn't feel so cold against my skin any more. Actually, I didn't feel cold anywhere. I just felt sleepy._

 _The bear that came to investigate wasn't driven away by the fire. There was no fire. It snuffled at my hair, and I could feel a moist breeze wash over me as it opened its mouth, and sharp teeth pricked at my scalp. I could hear my mother's voice deep in the throat of the bear._

" _Three things you will need to Weave the World"._

* * *

I didn't lurch out of the nightmare suddenly; I just stopped being asleep. My eyes barely opened, and I took a moment to remember where I was. A small guest room in Genkai's temple. I pushed hair thrown sleepily around from my eyes, and rolled over to get up.

The temple was quiet in the mornings, disturbed only by an overabundance of birds chirping with the rising sun. I pulled my hair back and away from my face as I plodded around, going through the motions of becoming human again via brushing one's teeth and splashing cool water on sleep-warmed skin.

I leaned forward to examine the growing shadows under my eyes. I hadn't slept well for a few years by this time; haunted by either memories of my mother, my travels, or some sadistic combination of the two.

 _Three things you will need to Weave the World. The Lion, the Raven, and the Star._

My grandmother hadn't wanted to talk about the Totems – I had barely known anything about the shuttle when it was passed on to me. "There is time for that later," she would always say.

I played a little with the bronze shuttle hanging against my chest. It was warm – it was always warm – as a side effect of the power within, and it always being pressed against my flesh. I could feel Blue stirring inside of it, asking quietly if she would be let out today. I let go of the shuttle, and it smacked back against my chest. I pulled my bulky sweater over my head, pushing up the sleeves to my elbows, and patted my cheeks to give them a little more color.

I was moderately presentable when I joined Genkai at her low table, already drinking her first cup of steaming tea. "Ohayo," I greeted. She grunted in return. Better than the few weeks before where she had totally ignored me. Maybe she had finally gotten over her disappointment.

"What would you like me to do around the Temple today?" I asked. I had been keeping myself occupied by just picking things to clean, and I tried not to be lazy. I repeated the brutal chores she had previously assigned (ridiculous amounts of bedding, scrubbing floors, polishing the wood posts, pulling weeds from between the pavers of the courtyard) with religious diligence. The Temple gleamed with attention.

Genkai shot me a hot glare over the edge of her teacup. I let it slide off me with cool indifference. I understood her anger – this was a place people came and _begged_ to train; cowered at her feet and threw themselves at her mercy for a _chance_ to learn. I pulled weeds and did laundry, throwing all possibility of good intentions in her face.

I could take her anger and resentment in stride; it was nothing new. I poured myself a cup of tea from the pot, and sipped, waiting for her to begrudgingly answer.

"There's a leak in the roof overhanging the porch on the South side of the building. Find it. Patch it." She raised an eyebrow, daring me to complain.

I shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. "Alright."

* * *

I _swear_ there was no leak.

I couldn't find water damage on the underside of the roof, or on the walkway below. I scrambled off the ladder onto the slick surface of the roof, scrabbling along like a three-legged puppy trying to stay upright, still to no satisfying discovery.

I couldn't go back down without finding the leak, but I felt terrifyingly vulnerable up on the roof. I had kicked off my shoes before climbing the ladder to better grip with my toes, but I got incredibly poor traction on the tiles.

I reached behind me to shift the hammer that had been slipped through a belt loop – the back was poking uncomfortably into my back – and lost my tripod balance in the process. I slipped down a few feet on the incline, and I swiftly flattened my body against the roof, grabbing at the nearest tile with my hand, and trying to get flat resistance with my stumpy arm.

Blue burned fiercely and swiftly against my chest, demanding freedom in exchange for safety. She had a vested interest in keeping me alive, but needed my permission to act in the physical world.

I felt my newer muscles screaming as I flexed in odd ways to attempt to create as much friction between my skin and the roof as was possible. My skin was rubbed raw as I slowed to a stop. There hadn't been much runway left, and I let out a deep sigh of relief.

I rose slowly back into my awkward crouch, making sure I had good footing and balance both. My whole and half forearm were both red with friction burns, and I could feel stinging in the soles of my feet that spelled the same result. _But_ , I reasoned, _you didn't fall off of the roof._

"Hey! Novak!" Someone's loud voice cut through my thoughts, and I twisted involuntarily to respond to my name. Kazuma was waving a hand at the gate, a grin on his face and a sack of groceries nestled in the crook of one large arm.

His body slid sideways, but it was still in correct relation to the rest of the Temple grounds. I realized a second too late that my turning dislodged my footing on the ceramic tile roof again, and my ankle twisted and slipped out from underneath me. I hit my side hard on the tile, and scrambled with my hand for grip as I swiftly slid down the incline. There was not enough runway for the plane to land safely this time.

I heard an exclamation of terror, a crash, and then I was falling through the air.

Blue nearly caught fire under my shirt.

I clenched my body, preparing for the hard smack onto stone, but my landing was significantly softer than that.

Kazuma was sprawled beneath me – I had landed on his chest, one arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders to keep my head from snapping back, the other bracing himself against the ground.

His pants and shirt were completely dusted and scuffed; he had made a home-run baseball slide to catch me (cushion me, rather) right before I broke my neck. It looked somewhere between a gallantly coordinated rescue and an attempted murder. "Are you ok?!" he exclaimed instantly, hand patting my head as if not believing he had managed to catch me.

"Yes – thank you!" I patted my face, disbelief equal to Kazuma's.

He helped me to my feet just short of lifting me straight into the air – he was quite strong. "So," he coughed, "should I ask? I mean it's not like there isn't a great view form up there, but I don't know-" he was talking very fast again, and it was difficult for me to follow along.

I waited for him to finish speaking. "I was looking for holes."

He brushed off his pants smartly with the back of a hand. It didn't do much good. "Find any?"

"No." And I was starting to think Genkai had just sent me up there as torture.

He nodded, turning to retrieve his dropped groceries. "That's good. I thought I got the last patch done a couple 'a months ago– I'd be mad if it was leaking already."

 _Yep._

* * *

"Now look at this mess – you've broken everything but the noodles, and it's a wonder those aren't damaged." Genkai was a grumbling crow as she pawed through the groceries Kazuma had brought to the temple.

"Yeah, sorry about that – still clumsy." Kazuma tapped a fist against his head and grinned. "I can go back out if you can wait until tomorrow," he offered.

Genkai snorted. "And have twice as many broken eggs? No, Novak will make do with this." She shot me a meaningful look, and my eyes widened.

I babbled a moment before exclaiming "You want _me_ to cook?"

Genkai snorted and slid the bag of groceries closer to me. "You're apparently a shit handyman."

I sighed, running my hand over my face. "Ennhhh… ok. I'll figure it out."

* * *

She muttered almost under her breath as she tugged her fingers through a knot in her hair, her voice was coarse; like fine-grain sandpaper for the final polish on woodwork. Novak moved with a different posture, and a sharpness to her motions that Kuwabara had never seen. She looked Eikichi a few minutes after a dog had been barking outside – still jumpy, but pretending not to be. Or maybe it was an absence of a focus on grace. He knew nothing about Novak, certainly not enough to assume anything.

She moved fast, too; even before Kuwabara had finished putting away the (kinda damaged but still edible) groceries she had pulled some of them back out, and had retrieved a pot, kettle for tea, cutting board, and large knife.

Kuwabara eyed the knife, certain that she wouldn't be able to cut anything safely with just the one hand. "Can I help?" he asked.

She shrugged, knife in hand. "A collective's pot boils denser." It was hard to understand her sometimes, but that took the cake. "A collective's… err… what?"

She blinked. "I did say the words correct, yes? A collective's pot boils denser?"

He stuck one finger in his ear, and wiggled it vigorously. "I… I think so? A collective's pot boils denser?"

She smiled, and nodded. "Yes, yes. Can you cut leeks?" She flipped the knife swiftly mid-air, catching the knife by the flat of the blade and offering him the knife hilt-first. He took it hesitantly.

She shuffled to the side to give him the space in front of the cutting board. Novak was favoring her left ankle, and he vaguely remembered seeing it twist awkwardly on the roof. "You should sit down – I can make the food."

She fixed him with a stern look that reminded him an awful lot of Shizuru. "When you are hurt only a little, do you rest it?" she asked, tapping one finger irritably against the countertop.

 **Heck** no.

She smiled, easily reading his response across his features. "So we do this, gently." She pulled a cut of fish from its paper wrapping, laying it carefully on a baking sheet. She rummaged around the spice cabinet with nearly a wild abandon, giving labels barely a glance. She seemed to select by smell alone, but it soon produced a heavenly combination.

"Your Japanese is getting better." It was the best he could come up with.

"Thank you. I have the time to practice." She spoke carefully, enunciating in a way that made her sound very formal. Kuwabara had to remind himself to speak equally slowly.

The kettle whistled shrilly from the stove, and Novak twisted her body to lift it away from the heat without moving from her spot in the small kitchen. She poured the boiling water into the teapot, and in only a minute or so a warm, comforting aroma filled the room.

In the instant she picked up the pot to pour, worry flooded through him. She wouldn't be able to pour and hold the lid closed; she might burn her hand. But Novak somehow beat him to it, moving with a swift snake-like movement. She poured easily, tilting the pot at an angle he hadn't considered so that she could hold the lid in place with her pinky finger. Novak appeared to completely ignore his attempt to assist her.

Kuwabara flushed, and wondered if he had embarrassed her. Did it happen a lot? Would it be rude to ask? Was he being rude by not asking? His face flushed as his brain worked overtime trying to decide whether or not to speak.

"May I ask what you are studying?" She glanced pointedly down at Kuwabara's bag – the seams tight from the strain of many heavy textbooks. She leaned a hip against the counter, at once taking pressure off her twisted ankle and angling her body to keep an eye on the cookpot.

Kuwabara perked up a little. "Oh! I'm trying to finish this Pre-Vet program and I'm not doing so hot in Chemistry, so I take the books everywhere and try to read them all the time. I even hoped for a while if I slept on them I might absorb just a little more information by osmosis, but apparently it doesn't work that way. So I just read them over and over and try not to fall asleep on the books."

She tilted her head to one side and offered a mild smile as he chattered along. "Ehh, sorry. I got carried away," he mumbled, blushing fiercely.

"No," Novak reassured him, smiling kindly in a way that softened her stark features, "It is difficult to hear fast words. Please, start again."

He nodded, and began again.

* * *

A/N: Russian phrase "an artel's pot boils denser" or "a collective's pot boil's denser" doesn't translate cleanly, obviously. The translation done not literally is "with a helper a thousand things are possible." June hasn't gotten the finer points of Japanese yet, so she still sounds like she is speaking straight from a dictionary.

My apologies for the long wait for chapters – I recently started an original fiction novel, and writing WH and PBP only comes to the forefront when I hit a block in my novel. Thank you for your unending patience!

Many thanks to my reviewers: rezgurnk, typiicaltaylor, FireDancerNix, Miqila, Lariee, Toreh, and rubytwili18!

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	7. Drawn From Stone

_I was standing in a web of stars. A young man stood next to me, staring out into the infinite. He had a strong western jaw, and dark eyes and hair. He was not terribly tall and stood with a tired slouch. His face was a portrait of agony as he turned to face me._ _"I cannot remember her face."_

 _There was a discordant chime in the distance – the twang of a poorly tuned chord._

* * *

Wakefulness was abrupt but no more startling than any other day. I ran my hand over my face, stretching the skin under my eyes a little in an attempt to speed up the process of waking. It didn't help.

Flopping out of bed like an ungraceful harp seal I rolling easily into a standing position. I grumbled under my breath about strange dreams, working fingers through my hair to tease out the knots. The dream was a new one, and it had left me unsettled. I was more accustomed to having dreams about my trip across the continent, and the memories of my decisions that followed me.

Splashing cool water on my face helped some, and I slapped my cheeks to regain a little color. The air slipping through the open windows was lousy with birdsong and it did not serve to make me less grouchy, regardless of how peaceful or refreshing it's supposed to be.

Genkai had beaten me to the table, no surprise. The extra teacup was already waiting for me and I poured a cup swiftly. The green tea didn't have nearly as much caffeine as a cup of Turkish coffee, but it served as a good remedy for my general morning lethargy.

"What do you know of interpreting dreams?" I asked the old woman abruptly. Genkai wasn't one for banal small talk, and I was more likely to get a real answer if I avoided beating around the bush.

She barely raised a glance over her teacup, sparing me the slightest of dismissive looks. "Nightmares?"

I shook my head. "I am not afraid of the ghosts that haunt me," I paused, swirling the tea in my cup. "This is a new feeling I do not recognize." It had lingered well past waking when the strangling feeling of regret typically dissipated. Instead, I was left with a tension lingered in my shoulders and an itch in my feet that I was unsure of how to interpret.

Genkai set down her teacup and graced me with her full attention. "Your strength has been building, creating pressure against the limits you set for yourself. It's no wonder you're sleeping poorly."

I ignored her accusation and shook my head again. "That's not it. Blue's strength is no different from one day to another, and only my physical strength has changed. The two are completely unrelated."

She slapped a palm against the table, irritation thickening in the air. "Like hell they aren't related; her strength relies on yours – if you sat around getting fat your life would get shorter, so she would be weaker. Don't you know how this works yet?"

A seething anger blossomed in my stomach. "I know better than you, better than _anyone_ living how painfully unfair the rules surrounding the operation of this device are. But you know," my tone turned mocking, "so how could _anyone_ else know? No one knows more than the great Genkai, yes?" I stood from the table in a jerky motion, knocking over my teacup. "Forget about it." I spun on my heel and left the table, hoping to get some air outside to cool the bubbling cauldron of irritation in my belly.

I would get no such peace, though, as Genkai followed me as I descended the short steps to the courtyard. "I don't think you know how to control it," she sneered. "I think you're _afraid_ of it."

The anger in my stomach exploded into a hot rage. I whipped around, spinning on my bare heel on the cold stone paver. I could feel the hum of the shuttle against my chest, burning with equal fire to match my fury. "You think I don't know how to work this power?" I roared. " _How do you think I survived_?"

Her expression was so doubtful, so _patronizing_ , I couldn't stand it. I shoved a hand down the collar of my sweater and grabbed at hot bronze. _Yes_ , it was screaming through my flesh _, yes!_ A swift tug at the cord released the knot behind my neck that bound her in place.

I clasped the shuttle, holding it high, and blue starlight burst into gleaming around it. Blue did not form behind me, though – instead I summoned only the parts I needed; her left arm became my left arm, emerging from my useless stump. I raised the new hand, spreading fingers wide. It wasn't hard to find the threads – they almost threw themselves into my hand; starved for a Tkadlec's touch they moved as easily as air.

With Blue free to act the Tapestry of the World was exposed to me. Great churning patterns flexed and fluttered with life. It took little effort to splay the pattern beneath my feet wide, moving the threads apart without breaking them. I moved them with a will – stone flexed and grew, softened and sighed. They _wanted_ to change under my touch. That was the secret to a weaving – the object being changed needed to _want_ to change. It wasn't difficult to coax an object into wanting the change, and some objects or people took more convincing than others.

The stone of Genkai's courtyard was tired and hummed with the desire for Blue's touch. It was visceral, and I could taste the yearning in the air. My hand – Blue's hand – plucked at their threads, teasing them from their long-held pattern into the object of my desire.

I didn't need to physically knot or thread each design, I simply willed it to be so, moving Blue's hand through the threads. They followed my will so long as I held focus and the strength of said will firmly in my mind. If I lost focus or grew uncertain, the entire pattern could fall apart, leaving only empty dust in its place.

 _There_ , I could feel it as the tapestry shuddered, taking hold in the new pattern. There was a mental _snap_ as the abrupt change took hold. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for mild nausea that followed the swift change.

A sweet smell washed over me, and wispy tendrils brushed against my legs in the breeze. The sigh of the wind picked up the rush of grasses and sedge leaves. I opened my eyes and blinked once to adapt to the sudden rush of color that had burst into life. Bare stone had given way to rich soil teeming with a high field of wildflowers open to the rising sun.

Soft pink flowers drifted in the air on gauzy stalks, looking more like tinted snow than flowers hovering on delicate strands. Heady yellows filled the middle ground, demanding insect attention. Deep blues and passionate reds were scattered in the scene, their petals fluttering like dancers.

The air was completely silent – Genkai was up to her waist in gently blowing stems, each dipping and standing again in the light breeze. Confused birdsong erupted again, and I moved a step closer to Genkai, running Blue's hand through the soft sea of grasses.

"I am alive today because I could control the shuttle when I needed it most. That may have taken a substantial number of years off the end, but…" I wouldn't know until the end came roaring up to meet me.

Genkai said nothing. Her gaze flashed over my shoulder and softened just slightly.

 _Uh-oh_. I turned slowly, dread rising in my stomach and swallowing the anger and passion that had bubbled there. Following Genkai's gaze to the temple steps behind me, I turned my attention to the Torii gate, filled at the entrance with the wildflowers that had taken over the courtyard.

Kazuma stood on the top step of the temple stairs. His face was an open book – eyes wide and mouth slightly open. His face didn't express any real emotion, per se; he was simply experiencing and his brain was too busy processing the information his eyes were passing on to do much of anything else.

A bag of groceries lay forgotten at his feet – ever the gentleman, he had replaced those broken the previous day. _I'm sure they've broken again_ , I thought idly.

He walked slowly through the new field of wildflowers, kicking up loose petals and the occasional cricket. He leaned down and plucked a flower, rolling the stem slowly between his fingers. The flowers brushed against his knees, not swallowing nearly as much of his form as it threatened to do to Genkai.

"Are you a demon?" he asked, his face a portrait of confusion.

* * *

 _The little boy had fallen and impaled himself on a spike. I took the shuttle, holding it in my good hand, and summoned Blue. The little boy shrieked in terror, trying to both scramble away from me while simultaneously concealing his agony._

" _Wait – I can help!"_

"Demon!" the boy cried. "Come to steal my soul – demon!"

* * *

"Are you a fox; like Kurama?" he clarified. He had never seen anyone pull plants from nowhere like the Kurama.

Novak shot him a confused – yet pained – look. "No – not a demon, and not a fox. Just a June." She had been glowing – glowing a fierce blue from her left hand – and the plants had suddenly sprung to life. _She had a left hand_ , and even as he stared with disbelief she followed his gaze, and the hand faded. She shuddered and slipped her hand into her pocket. Her gaze fell to the ground and the flowers at her feet.

"She's human – through and through," Genkai confirmed. Kuwabara's gaze flickered between the Novak and Genkai, shame apparent on the former and a thin satisfaction in the latter.

"So – you're here to train, then?" Kuwabara asked. "To fight? All the great spiritual powers have trained with Genkai! Yusuke and me – oh man – we spent a lot of great days here when we were younger-" Kuwabara stopped his rambling when he saw Novak's universal expressions for 'you're talking too fast for me to understand'; a mild smile and a slight tilt of the head.

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head with a free hand. "Sorry," he talked a little slower and tried to enunciate. "You're here to train as a fighter?"

Novak laughed – angry, barking – and shook her head. "No – no fight." She held up one small fist and her stump in a mock fighting pose. "Could only fight small things. Fight rabbits. Still lose." She dropped her arms again. "Here for safe sleeping only."

"But when you do the thing with-" Kuwabara struggled to describe it.

"Blue," Novak offered.

"Blue?" Kuwabara asked.

" _Da,_ " Novak nodded.

"When you do things with Blue – doesn't that make you stronger?"

She sagged a little in the shoulders. "No – she make… she make me _tired_."

Kuwabara was reaching the end of his logical understanding. He walked towards her a few steps, cutting a wide swath through the field. "Well if you do it more, won't you be tired less; like training a muscle!"

Novak shook her head, shifting from foot to foot.. "No – would make me _dead_."

Kuwabara stopped dead. "What?"

She reached out her hand. "When Blue comes-" she gripped her stubby arm, "she hold on – hold on to…" she struggled to find the right word. "She holds to my _heart_." Novak emphasized the word slowly, tapping a closed fist against her chest.

She pulled the closed fist away from her chest sharply – a ripping motion. "She _takes_ heart. Every time." She held her fingers very close together. "Little heart."

Kuwabara was beyond confused. Novak looked to Genkai with a frustrated look.

Genkai crossed her arms behind her back, tilting her head down slightly and closing her eyes. "Novak's family has no spiritual ability of their own; all the power comes from a totem that they pass down from mother to daughter – a bronze shuttle. Every time she chooses to use the shuttle, the spiritual power binds to her life energy to get a foothold in the physical world, and a little of her energy gets used up."

Novak murmured something in Russian, and Genkai opened her eyes, rattling something back. Novak nodded. Genkai continued, "The strain is tremendous. The bearer develops a near-dependency on its presence as the spiritual energy of the shuttle and the bearer's life force will have begun to tie together; so the shuttle is passed to the next Tkadlec as soon as possible. In essence, the more a Tkadlec uses the shuttle the faster they die."

Genkai murmured something to Novak, gesturing with a hand, and she nodded again.

"Does – does it hurt?" Kuwabara asked. He was rubbing a hand on his chest subconsciously.

Novak's face softened. " _Nyet_ – no."

Genkai frowned, clearly not satisfied with Novak's answer. "A Tkadlec is doomed to die quickly from the day they take the shuttle." Genkai returned her hands to clasp behind her back, speaking as casually as one might list grocery shopping to be done. "The actual work of weaving is done by the shuttle, but the Tkadlec acts as an anchor. Her entire family line has existed through history only to serve that purpose."

Kuwabara's confusion slowly gave way to righteous rage.

* * *

He was speaking quickly, stumbling and tripping over words in a jumble too fast for me to follow. His face was hot and red and angry, and veins in his neck were starting to pulse violently. He pointed to the flowers, and to me, and walked towards Genkai swiftly, stomping flowers under his feet.

I shouted in surprise as he lifted Genkai clean off the ground by the front of her tunic, snarling in her face. His form positively rippled with anger – more so than I thought the gentle giant was capable of maintaining.

Genkai responded with venom in her voice, speaking slowly, clearly unconcerned with being lifted like a rag doll. "What do you expect _me_ to do about it?"

Kuwabara held her like that for a few more seconds and abruptly released her. She landed easily on her feet, never bothering to unclasp her hands from behind her back. He stood, hands open, staring at the empty spot that Genkai had just occupied. His hands trembled a little.

I approached the taller man and laid my hand on his arm. "Kuwabara?" I tried to make my voice as soothing as possible.

He yanked his arm away from my touch and turned on his heel, tracing his path through the wildflower field back to the Torii gate, and began to descend the stairs without a word.

"What did I do?" I asked Genkai, confusion, shame, and hurt nearly choking me.

Genkai brushed wrinkles out of the front of her tunic in the shape of Kuwabara's fists. "What has any Tkadlec ever done?"

* * *

A/N: I hope the changes in POV weren't too confusing, but I wanted both sides of this.

This scene has been waiting in the wings for some time – our first true demonstration of the power of a Tkadlec! Now we know why June refuses to use the shuttle – she doesn't want to die young – although too much goading from Genkai can force her to use it out of pride.

So why's Kuwabara so angry?

Two chapters in two days? I'm spoiling you!

Many thanks to my reviewers: FireDancerNix, halem847, Leahcar-Soutaichou, and rezgurnk!

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	8. Distance

There was still much of the day left after that. The sun had barely risen over the new garden, and Genkai had yet to suggest that I convert them back to stone. I followed her without needing the summons into the house, and sat at the low table as she made tea. I had never actually seen the woman make tea – it always just seemed to be around.

She set the cup directly in front of me. "Drink," she commanded. I followed her instruction, and nearly choked as it burned in a distinctly not-tea fashion as it roared down my throat.

"Is any of that actually _tea?_ " I asked, coughing a little. I was no lightweight, but I wasn't expecting a morning beverage that was mostly liquor.

Amusement danced in her eyes but didn't reach the rest of her solemn face. "Enough. You looked about ready to fall over. If you're going to do so, it should be for a better reason." Genkai sipped her own tea and appeared unperturbed by the alcohol content.

I could hear the wind running through grasses over my shoulder. I hadn't bothered to close the sliding paper door behind me, and the new sounds were comforting in the silence. Genkai glanced at it briefly, distracted by the motion, before she caught my eye.

"Kuwabara is a fool who still believes in a fair world." She answered my hidden question with a sharp report. "He's not angry at you, he's angry at your situation." She huffed lightly, her breath pushing steam from her teacup over the table. "He has a foolish idea of what's 'fair'; that he doesn't believe people should be harmed by their gifts."

Genkai looked out over the wildflowers over my shoulder dipping and standing in the wind. "He should know better. He's seen many pay a terrible price for their abilities."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. I knew more than most about the cost of gifts, and Genkai didn't feel the need to shove it further down my throat. I tucked the thumb of my hand into my long sweater sleeve, picking at a piece of lint on the inside of the sleeve. If not for my family's heritage – if not for the shuttle – I would have two hands, for one. I would still have a grandmother. I might still have a mother. I would have a home.

It sounds so glamorous to travel the continent, meeting people and seeing places rarely touched by humanity. But what "Time Magazine's Top 100 Destinations" leaves out is that you need _money_ to travel, and to be a relatively experienced adult. It leaves out nearly freezing to death, starving to death, and neglecting sleep in lieu of safety.

Genkai's temple was a port in a storm that I dared not venture back out into. Cantankerous and disappointed she may be, I feared deeply that damaging relationships with those she knew longer – and perhaps preferred to my sorry behind – might leave me on my own again.

Whether or not she sensed my fears, Genkai didn't show it. She finished her tea, and set her cup down on the table with an impolite _clack!_ I glanced up to find her staring at me with crossed arms. "You worry too much," she declared, "and not nearly enough about the things that matter, like taking up your Grandmother's mantle."

I shrugged one shoulder wearily, and tugged at the lint on the inside of my sleeve some more.

Genkai rolled her eyes. "Kuwabara fell in love with a girl, and even though she left him he still comes by the temple often, hoping that she will have returned."

It was a statement rather incongruous with our conversation not a minute before. I bunched up a chunk of the sweater in my hand. "I don't think you should have told me that."

"Why not? You surrendered very painful information about your predicament just because he happened to see you use the shuttle." The cross of her arms tightened imperceptibly. "And you're more worried about what upset that buffoon than the real issues at hand."

"There are no greater issues than the influence we have over the lives of others." It felt like a distinctly stupid thing to say to Genkai almost the moment it left my lips.

"You're worried about _feelings_ over the structure of the Three Worlds? I thought you were smarter than that." She stood to leave. "You and your _feelings_ should see to neatening up the mess you made outside."

* * *

Barely a full day later Genkai was visited by an unfamiliar face.

She arrived late in the morning as I was picking wildflowers in the courtyard for decoration. She spared it only a raised eyebrow as she cut a sharp path through the new greenery. She moved like the Stag that knows it's too large and too dangerous for a wolf to attack; a confident and casual stride.

She was tall, with a length of dyed warm brown hair and a cigarette hanging loose from one hand. She was dressed in a perfectly-fit pair of dark trousers and a khaki suit vest. A red tie sat snugly at her collarbone, set vibrantly against the stark white of her collared shirt. The only indication that she felt the heat of the late morning were her rolled sleeves, pushed up past the elbow. "Master Genkai?" she asked, looking towards the temple.

Now that she was closer I could sense the anger rolling off of her in waves. It left a bitter tension in the air that anyone who has avoided a dangerous situation would know well. "Tea time," I replied.

She nodded, heading straight into the temple.

Odd woman. I let it glance off my awareness as readily as she had dismissed me.

I returned my focus to the wildflowers; picking the most colorful and appealing and placing them in the crook of my left elbow for safekeeping. The long stems draped softly over my arm to tickle a little. They would make for cheery decoration in the minimalist rooms of the Temple.

It was nice to do something for the sheer pleasure in the beauty of it. The time to have casual pleasures and just _pick flowers_ was something I had missed.

" _Hey!_ " The tall woman had returned swiftly, hands stuffed in her perfect trouser pockets and a displeased expression plastered on her face. "You're Novak June," she declared.

"Yes?" I replied, but it was more of a question.

She planted her stance only a little narrower than one that would be considered hostile, pulling a long drag of her cigarette. "If you're looking for sympathy you need to pick somebody else."

My head tilted a shade to once side in confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't -"

She interrupted. "My little brother doesn't need any more death or spirit world bullshit – he's going to be a vet."

The light ticked on in my brain. "Your brother is Kazuma Kuwabara?"

She flicked the smoking cigarette to the ground and smooshed it with a toe. "No one stays, June. He's seen so much death and pain and in the end everyone still just _leaves_ – it's more than a human can bear."

I laughed coldly. "Ok to say, but there's no limit. And I never asked him feel sorry for me." I wished so badly to be able to speak better Japanese. Speaking to Genkai was easily, as I could fluidly use Russian to fill the gaps in my vocabulary. Now, instead, I was trying to respond to an angry sibling with one hand tied behind my back. Well, half a hand, as it were.

She pulled another cigarette and a lighter from her trousers and - good heavens, she must have terrible lungs – lit it swiftly. "Genkai won't kick you out because you're some fucking charity case, but I'm sure I don't need to tell you how much you could hurt people if you don't keep your distance."

"I know. Don't need you to tell me." _Bitch_ , I added in my head.

She nodded. "Good talk."

She strode from the Temple grounds with the same confidence she had held in her arrival. The trough through the wildflowers left a scar in the peaceful waves rippling in the breeze. I sat down in the grasses, my shoulders slumping.

 _Blue_ , I called without words, pulling the shuttle from underneath my sweater. I could feel the heat building, within and without. _Come, I need you._

I felt the Pull – the locking of her essence to mine – and the little part of me that it tore away. It was like an internal tear of tissue paper – it didn't hurt, but it was distinctly uncomfortable. I didn't need to see the glory of her spinning into being – once had been enough to sear it into my meory.

In only a few seconds Blue's arms appeared over my shoulders as she positioned her arms parallel to mine. Her arms hovered over mine in a bizarre inverted marionette; as I moved my arms so did hers, and together we returned the courtyard to stone. Wildflowers and grasses shrank, thickening, hardening, and quieting from the freeing rush of wind into silent pavers.

She drifted around me, and I could feel through the bond that she enjoyed being free for just a moment. She lifted my head with her hands, brushing the tears from my face with her thumbs. Blue offered a melancholy smile, and mouthed _don't cry_.

I looked down, pulling my head from her hands and waving her off. It hurt too much to look at her. She looked too much like my mother. "Go away, you pest," I ordered half-heartedly, directing my gaze to the cold stone beneath me.

Blue nodded, and faded.

* * *

A/N: Now we know why Kuwabara was so upset – I do think that the vast unfairness of the world would start to grate at him, and the suffering of a brand new friend would be hard. We also got to see the less friendly and more protective side of Shizuru! No one is allowed to make her baby bro upset but her!

And yes, Blue looks a lot like June's mother (I promise it's not – her mom's not dead).

You guys have some great questions! Among them – was the guy in June's dream Aria's last husband (no), How did Granny live so long if Tkadlec women die quickly (tba), and why was Kuwabara so mad at Genkai (he has a tendency to beat up the messenger). Keep them coming!

Many thanks to my reviewers: Larie, halem847, FireDancerNix, Guest, Too Young to Feel This Tired, Miqila, and rubytwili18 !

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	9. The Line of Dusana

_The open field was dark and somber, lit only by the feeble light of the moon. A harsh night-bird screeched far off, making me jump. It startled me so strongly that I forgot what I was searching for._

 _I frowned as a sick feeling tried to crawl down my throat. Time was running away from me, slipping backward and sideways as I swam against the vicious force of its tide. The darkness of the night was smothering me in hot blankets and beating at my eyes._

 _Then I saw the Sun._

 _She rose from the reeds, wide swaths of light piercing the shadows like a glowing mane of blazing fury. She was made of gold, but her eyes were the sapphire color of a mourner's tears. The Sun stood above the thick, waving landscape as glorious as the Dawn itself. She approached slowly, heat and light throwing away the night._

 _She held out a hand to help me stand – I had not known I crumbled before her._

 _She opened her golden mouth to speak._

"Get up." _Her voice was coarse and old. I blinked, hesitating to take her hand_."I said get up, idiot."

I opened my eyes to find Genkai standing next to my head.

I was in bed.

In the Temple.

" _Ya tozhe rada Vas vide_ t," I muttered.

"Come on," she summoned. "You have five minutes."

She left without further ceremony or delay, barely bothering to close the door to my little guest room. It didn't take me five minutes – I was a low-maintenance person, and it's not like I had a ton of fashionable options. I pulled snarls out of my hair – how much can one person toss and turn in their sleep? The coarse brush tugged unpleasantly at my scalp, but it helped to wake me up a little more.

"Where are we going?" I asked her as I caught up, slipping on my shoes as we exited the Temple in quite a hurry. The Shuttle was swiftly cloaked beneath my sweater, humming _good morning_ against my skin.

"I have to take care of something in Spirit World and I'm not stupid enough to leave you here alone. I'm sure I'd come back to a smoking hole in the ground."

I repeated it under my breath. _Spirit World_. "And… how do we get there?" I asked hesitantly. "A plane?"

I didn't have to see her face to know that she was rolling her eyes at me. "Could you have asked a more idiotic question? We're going through a portal – which you won't be able to see, so this is going to be extremely unpleasant for you." She glanced back at me as she slowed her pace. We were approaching the far side of the Temple, where trees sometimes brushed gently against the rooftop. "I would recommend closing your eyes, and just following instructions."

I nodded, biting back what was probably another stupid question. Genkai smirked, and directed me to grasp her shoulder. "Close your eyes."

It was unpleasantly disorienting to walk, trusting that Genkai wouldn't let me walk into a tree just for laughs. She seemed to take it seriously – or she was strapped for time – because I think we traveled in a fairly straight line after turning the corner.

I could hear a rushing of air, and a high-pitched whine like some giant mosquito flying towards me. "…Genkai?" I asked, my voice trembling more than I would care to admit.

"Stay calm," she ordered, and the steadiness of her voice was a bare comfort. 'It's about to get a lot worse."

She wasn't wrong.

A sudden feeling of vertigo overcame me after a command to "step up," and my inner ear kindly informed me that my balanced had been completely fucked up. The rushing and whining sounds had grown so loud I thought I could feel them in my chest.

"Walk, Novak," came Genkai's steady voice.

I complied, and each step brought me further from the rushing, whining, disorienting feeling. Without a reference, my body was still managing to acclimate step by step. I felt nauseated, but Genkai didn't snap at me as I moved slowly, so I figured she understood.

"How much further?" I asked once I was able to hear my thoughts again.

"We're about halfway there."

"Oh, good, I-" interruption in the form of a resounding _screech_ rending both the air and my brain in half. I gasped, clutching at my ear with my good hand and planting my stump as best I could over the other. It also had the added, unfortunate, effect of losing my grip on Genkai.

Thankfully, Genkai had much more experience with… whatever that was, and grabbed hold of my sleeve. I think she yelled something but I couldn't hear her over the _screaming_. My body shut down, trying to shut it _out_. The Shuttle was on _fire_ against my skin, blazing with a message I couldn't hear over an endlessly tortured cry.

I felt a buzzing sensation on my skin, under my sweater – the Shuttle was shaking, buzzing. I pulled at the cord around my neck, trying to pull it out from under my baggy clothes. I kept missing, pulling instead at the edges of my sweater. _"Stop it!_ " I yelled at the Shuttle.

I needed to get it off of me. I needed to throw the Shuttle into the abyss and let the screaming follow it. I needed to escape.

"Breathe, Novak!" Genkai was shouting at me, her hands suddenly covering my grasping fingers.

" _Get it off of me!"_ I was gasping, unable to catch my breath and hyperventilating.

Genkai grasped me firmly above the wrist and pulled, _hard._ I stumbled forward, eyes blinking open as an autonomic reaction to the movement. I clamped them shut again as another wave of screaming washed over me – more powerful and agonizing than before. It was only a moment, but I remember what it looked like. It was… an abyss. Darkness, with thready mist leading tantalizingly far into the distance.

I stumbled as a third wave washed over me – it was Death, I was certain. Someone was calling for Death. Just before I was pulled down and _out_ of that hellish landscape, the screaming stopped.

And it was quiet.

* * *

I lay face-down on a hard surface, catching my breath. Genkai hadn't bothered trying to catch me when I stumbled out of the portal and I was a little grateful. I wanted cold, hard surfaces, and silence.

"Are you still alive, Novak?" the old Master asked. "If you're going to die, here's as good a place as any." She snorted at her own joke, "Your soul wouldn't have far to travel."

" _Nu naher,"_ I muttered into the ground. "How – what – is it always like that?!"

Genkai's feet crunched into the stone beside me as she took a step to the side. "Generally live humans don't travel to Spirit World. I'm guessing your presence was not appreciated."

"I mean the screaming –what was screaming?" I rolled over onto my side, staring the process of standing.

Genkai stood, arms clasped behind her back, concern hidden far, far behind a cold expression. "You were the only one screaming, Novak."

"I'm not crazy." I sighed deeply and pushed myself upwards, bracing my forearms on the… "This is not seriously a yellow brick road."

I looked up and around as I stood and in nearly an instant regretted it completely. The mountains I was used to should not have been packed that tightly together, and they most certainly shouldn't be that shade of _pink._ Neither should the sky have been pink either.

"Sure; you're not crazy. Close your mouth before they think you're an imbecile," Genkai chided, and I closed my mouth with a _click_ of teeth.

Further inquiry was interrupted by a fast-approaching figure. "Master Genkai, so good to see you again!"

He was blue.

He had a little white horn on his balding head.

He was _blue_.

My brain struggled to compute and came up with nothing better than a confused mental shrug. Does not compute. Error 404: reference page not found.

Genkai provided no introductions, "No time for pleasantries, Jorge. I need to see Mishka."

He paled to a lighter shade of blue, and glanced at me. "She can't come down with you." He looked at me a little longer. "You're not dead! What are you doing here?!" He seemed quite distressed that I wasn't dead. I was almost insulted.

"She can go anywhere she damn well pleases," Genkai interrupted. "This is the Tkadlec."

I wasn't familiar with the power of my title before that moment, but Jorge's reaction gave me a good indication. The Ogre paled to a faint baby blue, then a deep purple blush. He bowed deeply, repeatedly. "My apologies! It's an honor to meet you!"

"Er, thank you," I replied, bowing in return.

"Oh stop it. She'll stay above while I'm with the prisoner. Take her to see her family's records or something." The Ogre hesitated a moment too long – waiting for formality's sake in case Genkai had a further comment – and Genkai snapped a harsh word. "I don't have all day!" Genkai barked, and the Ogre jumped to comply.

"Of course, Master Genkai!" Jorge bowed to me a few times. "Follow me, if you please, Tkadlec. I'll leave you in excellent hands."

* * *

"Excellent hands" it turned out, was a yellow ogre. There were ogres _everywhere_. I wondered for several long moments about what that meant for my vision of an afterlife. The ogre was too skittish to even introduce themselves, so I didn't pester them by asking.

The insides of Spirit World's.. palace? Temple? Office building? Office. The insides of Spirit World's Office were not nearly as impressive to me as the pink landscape outside, but I still got a crick in my neck from attempting to look in every direction at once. Yellow didn't seem to notice, and if he had I'm sure he wouldn't have said anything.

I was led to a very dusty room with a row of bookshelves that were crammed to bursting with parchment in various states of decay. I leaned around the edge, my eyes following a line of bookshelves back and back and back and… I got dizzy and stopped staring.

I returned to a large table that was next to the door and sat down, trying to avoid yet another bout of Vertigo. My yellow ogre friend jogged past me down the line of infinite bookshelves, returning swiftly with a heavy-looking piece of parchment that had been tightly rolled. The yellow ogre unrolled the scroll gently and reverently out across the table.

Before I had the time to lean over and examine it too closely, the ogre and gone and was already returning from the stacks with a handful of loose papers and a tightly rolled, sealed scroll. I looked closer as the roll loosened a little on the table – it had been sealed, once, but someone had pried the wax drippings up from the surface. They dangled loosely at the end of the twine wrapping.

"T-Tkadlec, p-please don't hesitate to ask if any- if you need anything else." he stammered, bowing deeply.

"Thank you," I replied, and the ogre fled from the room in an instant.

The silence was heavy.

I reached for the once-sealed scroll and pulled at the end as gently as I was able. I was a little surprised to see an elegant Japanese script. _What were you expecting – Czech?_ I laughed at my own ignorance in my head,

It took me a long moment to translate in my head – **"** _ **The Tale of the Line of Dusana".**_ I set the scroll down. I didn't need to struggle to read that story – I knew it by heart.

My grandmother's voice drifted through my memory. _"It is time you learn our family's history."_ I could hear her shuffle across bare stone floors; her slippers making a familiar _shuff-shuff_ in the dusty air. _"In a time before recorded years, our great ancestor was a weaver in a village in a field long lost to time, where weaving began. She was the greatest and most beautiful of weavers, and her works were prized above all others for their quality and strength."_

My grandmother withdrew from her pocket a tiny bronze shuttle, no wider than the span of her hand. _"She was given this shuttle by a man who deeply treasured her. He spent most of his youth trying to make it for her. Shuttles were usually made of wood, but he wanted to give her a gift to last an eternity – like his love for her."_

She cleared her throat before speaking to ensure she was heard. _"Dusana was her name – remember that name, June."_ I could hear the old familiar smile in her voice – a fondness for an ancestor that transcended time and space. _"They were paired – this was before real 'marriage', you understand – and Dusana used the shuttle in all of her weavings. She found that when she weaved with the shuttle, she could wish good things into the material, and they gave those who received them good luck, or fortune, or health. Dusana started to do this with all her weavings, and her skill and strength with the gift grew."_

I remembered the sweeping arc of her arm as she dove further into the story. _"One morning, when Dusana lifted her shuttle to weave, before she could touch the threads at her hand-loom she caught a glimpse of the weavings of the World – the threads of spirit and energy that bind the world together in a great tapestry of infinite complexity and grace."_

She had sighed, wistfully. By then, she had started to lose her connection to the family gift. _"Dusana was the first in a long line of Tkadlec women. Our line stretches back for millennia, June. The shuttle passes from mother to the first daughter, as she is taught to Weave the World."_

" _In this time, the world was dangerous; demons and spectres lingered at every turn. The King of all Souls approached her in the twilight of one Summer's evening and asked for her help in weaving a barrier between the Worlds. He could no longer stand to see his human children suffer so. At first, Dusana refused."_ My grandmother would always pause there to let me gasp in horror before continuing.

" _Dusana would not leave her newborn daughter, for fear of what could happen in her absence. The King of Souls declared he would wait by the river's edge until Moonrise, in the event that she changed her mind."_ By that point, I was always bouncing up and down in my seat. Grandmother would gather the blanket closer. " _That night,_ _Dusana dreamt of a world poisoned by fear and woke shortly before moonrise knowing she would need to Weave the World. She struck out into the cool night, wrapped in her best-woven shawl, and met the King of Souls at the river._ "

My grandmother would never tell me the part about the actual weaving – _that is part of training, that comes later_ – but would fix me with her no-nonsense stare. _"You will carry on our line; bear a daughter, and she will carry it after you. It is a sacred duty."_

" _Why not a son?"_ I had hoped that I might have a sibling who could take that awful responsibility, but I was an only child.

My grandmother had only shrugged. _"The shuttle goes untouched by the hands of fathers and sons. It has always been so."_

I set the story scroll aside and resisted the urge to rip it to pieces. It would do no good – she was long, long dead. _Dusana_ , I thought. _Dusana, did you know?_

I stood from my seat and walked around the huge table to look at the very end of the huge scroll Yellow had rolled out. At the top – the first text ever written on the scroll – it said _Tkadlec_.

Me.

My family.

The history of our curse.

All the way at the crunchiest and most ancient end I could very faintly read a name: _Dusana_. No family name; she was simple _Dusana._

Ink one iota darker, a branch led to the side for a sibling, and I could just barely read it. _Dusek_. He had a marriage line, _Svetla_. But it looked like it ended – no children.

Dusana and her partner – _Arnost_ – had a conjoined line that led forward in time to their daughter – _Lada_ – and her daughter after that was darker still, as the record grew younger and younger.

I traced the line with a hovering finger – down through history, to me. Tkadlecs appeared to have other children, and I enjoyed following a few lines of distant cousins and aunts. A few of the names I even recognized as the more recent family members my mother had appealed to when I was so very young. _She has the Weaver's Hands,_ she had insisted.

How right she was.

I traced the line back through history. From me, marked as _living_ , to my mother, _living_ , to my grandmother, _deceased (14h7d2m56y)._ Her entire life had been summed up in a neat sequence of numbers and letters. Fifty-six years, two months, seven days, and fourteen hours.

I followed the line with a delicately hovering finger, seeing the effects of modern medicine as lifespans grew shorter and shorter the further back I went. There was a great-great-grandmother (16h4d10m39y), and her grandmother before her (7h26d2m32y), and back and back and back to Dusana, _deceased (1h19d11m23y)._

Dusana had lived until she was twenty-three years old, almost twenty-four. A quick glance down the Line confirmed that Tkadlec women now lived about twice as long with the help of modern medicine. _But nothing can reverse the toll of the Shuttle_ , I thought. Those same distant aunts and cousins lived much longer than their Tkadlec siblings. It was also easy to see where the Shuttle skipped a generation – as it had done with my mother – that same extended lifespan visible in one who should have been cursed with our legacy.

I moved across the scroll to her sibling as something caught my eye. There was a smudge under Dusek – _deceased (3h23d5m22y)_ – like someone had started to drawn a genealogical line for a child, and then watered down the ink to erase it. I leaned closer, squinting.

"Tkadlec?" The voice scared the living daylights out of me.

"Yes?" I replied, my head jerking up to put distance between me and the scroll. My cheeks burned as though I had been caught misbehaving.

Yellow stood barely half in the doorway, his expression fearful. The ogre wrung his hands. "Master Genkai is asking for you in the Tombs."

"Leave this out for me, would you? I'll be right back." I pointed down at the scroll and accompanying documents.

He nodded and bowed. "Of course, Tkadlec."

* * *

The Tombs were appropriately named – a steep descent down slightly damp stone stairs led into the dark heart of Spirit World. I grasped for a handrail but found none – Spirit World seemed to ignore basic safety rules, it seemed.

I braced my hand against the wall – also damp, but it was better than tripping – and tried to will my eyes to adjust faster to the gloom. The Shuttle warmed against my skin; _I could help_ , it meant. _Fuck that_ , I thought.

It wasn't hard to find Genkai – whatever cell had been her goal was apparently just at the bottom of the stairs. I wondered if that meant the prisoner was high security due to proximity to the guard station at the top of the stairs, or if she was low security because she was closer to the exit.

"You called for me?" I asked, announcing my presence.

"Could you compel her to talk?" Genkai stood before the dark cell, staring at it intently. There weren't any bars – it looked more like an alcove in the wall. My hairs stood on end on my arms, like a heavy thunderstorm was approaching.

I blinked, glancing into the alcove a little harder. There was a yellow-green ogre sitting in the alcove's shrouded darkness, staring off into space. He was drooling a little. I was _pretty_ sure it wasn't female, so Genkai's question confused me. "I could probably make someone speak. Who are we talking about?"

Genkai shot me a glare. "Her, stupid." She jerked her head into the dark space.

I stood right next to her, following the motion of her head. "The… the ogre?"

Genkai frowned at me and seemed to decide I wasn't trying to be funny. Her gaze followed mine, seeming to fix on an empty space not quite where I was looking.

She let out a harsh battle cry, thrusting her arms forward in a sudden wrists-together and palms-forward move, and the tingling feeling on my arms evaporated as the wall in the alcove suddenly cracked inwards, sending the ogre tumbling to the ground. I jumped backward as dust flew everywhere.

Genkai's vision focused on the dazed ogre. "Oh, _fuck_."

* * *

A/N: Looooots of really great stuff here, folks. A little history of the Tkadlec lineage, a little intrigue, ya know.

Many thanks to my reviewers: Redpanda923, FireDancerNix, and Sanguinary Tide!

PLEASE REVIEW!


	10. Mishka's Mystery

_**Previously, in Weaver's Hands**_

 _There was a yellow-green ogre sitting in the alcove's shrouded darkness, staring off into space. He was drooling a little. I was pretty sure it wasn't female, so Genkai's question confused me. "I could probably make someone speak. Who are we talking about?"_

 _Genkai shot me a glare. "Her, stupid." She jerked her head into the dark space._

 _I stood right next to her, following the motion of her head. "The… the ogre?"_

 _Genkai frowned at me, and seemed to decide I wasn't trying to be funny. Her gaze followed mine, seeming to fix on an empty space not quite where I was looking._

 _She let out a harsh battle cry, thrusting her arms forward in a sudden wrists-together and palms-forward move, and the tingling feeling on my arms evaporated as the wall in the alcove suddenly cracked inwards, sending the ogre tumbling to the ground. I jumped backwards as dust flew everywhere._

 _Genkai's vision focused on the dazed ogre. "Oh, fuck."_

* * *

She turned instantly on her heel and walked swiftly towards the steep stone stairs leading up and out of the prison. It took me longer than average to realize she wasn't coming back to the weird scene she had abandoned, and I scurried to follow.

As I caught up, she was muttering darkly to herself.

"Master Genkai?" She shot a hot, short look at me over her shoulder and I gulped nervously. "I'm very confused."

She reached the stairs in record time and started ascending two at a time – jumping up the steps as easily as she if she was on a trampoline. "You're a human – plain, vanilla milquetoast human – and can't see anything relating to spirit energy. You couldn't see the cell's barrier either, right?"

I nodded slowly, and then realized she wasn't looking at me. "Y-yes?" I stammered. Was I in trouble? I wasn't sure.

She grunted. "The prisoner _I_ saw was a fabrication – a very complex, very convincing doll made of only spirit energy. Damn smart, actually. But she didn't count on a plain, boring, complete powerless human coming down to the Tombs."

I was still struggling to connect dots in my head. "So… that is good - yes?" I knew it couldn't be – the old woman was too angry, and moving much too quickly for someone calm about the situation. There was something deeply wrong, and fear was radiating from Genkai in thick clouds.

"You might have just saved someone's life." She shook her head. "Stupid."

 _Well, that was uncalled for_ , I thought. "What did I do!?" I exclaimed. I thought I had done something good! I thought I had saved someone's life!

"Not you," she snapped. "I should have realized it wasn't so simple."

"Genkai!" I cried, and the fear in my voice, a reflection of the fear I felt from her, was audible enough that the older woman stopped and looked down at me. "Please – _what's going on?!_ " I begged. I was begging. Our short trip to Wonderland felt like it was spiraling far, far out of my realm of understanding.

She took a step down so that we were eye-to eye. "There was supposed to be a prisoner in that cell named Mishka. While friends of mine were investigating in the Makai I'm told her name came up, which should have been impossible. Now we know that it's quite plausible that Mishka was involved in whatever coup is underway in the Makai."

"But you all thought she was still in prison this whole time?" While consciously I understood that – being powerless – I could see through a spirit-energy-fueled illusion, it seemed like such a flawed prison-break. It relied on everyone having powers. Which, I supposed, was a fairly safe assumption in this world.

Genkai nodded. "Mishka is all about illusions – making them inside people's heads, and warping perceptions reality. I think that's why someone – Mishka, probably – tried to kill Aria." The name wasn't familiar, but Genkai was still talking – mostly to herself – so I didn't interrupt. "Mishka didn't try to poison Aria so Hiei would go berserk. She tried to poison Aria because she's the only person who's ever proven capable of recognizing her illusions." She smirked down at me. "Until now."

Genkai turned and started ascending the stairs again. "But it won't matter if we dawdle down here like schoolchildren. Get moving!" she barked at me, and I did my best to keep up again.

"How long do you think she's been free?" I asked, still piecing together the situation at hand in my head.

Genkai hummed briefly under her breath. "If she had used a totem, not long. Since she used the ogre, there's no way to know. He would have eaten the meals left for her, interacted with others…"

It was a language I didn't attempt to understand. I knew the ins and outs of manipulating Energetic Tapestries, and that had a language and specific terminology that few others would understand. I imagined that Genkai was probably still speaking more for her own benefit, or from frustration, or from a combination of the two.

We were almost at the top of the stairs when they shook violently, lurching and tilting underfoot. I slammed against the side of the stairwell but Genkai seemed only mildly jostled. I regained my footing, rubbing my sore shoulder. " _What the hell was that?"_

My ears were ringing with the force of having my bell squarely rung, but as I put a finger in my ear and wiggled it to reset my inner ear, I realized it wasn't me. The ringing sound wasn't coming from within… it was coming from the air around me.

"Genkai…?" I asked hesitantly. She was staring up at the open doorway above like it was coming to kill us.

"Stay close," she ordered. I dared not disobey.

We ascended the last few steps far slower than we had the rest of the set. As the stairwell opened up into the wide corridor above, we ascended into pure chaos. Ogres were swarming the hallway in nothing short of a riotous panic. Paper flew in every direction. Women in kimono were running - _and flying -_ in between arms and legs and flying paperwork. Someone was yelling orders, as were several other ogres and a woman with blue hair above it all seemed to be yelling the loudest.

Genkai spotted the blue-haired woman almost at the same time I did, and barked for her attention. "Botan!" She spun in the air, barely remaining seated on her _flying oar_ , and zipped down to us at a dizzying angle and speed.

"Master Genkai!" her lilting, feminine voice put my brusque tone to shame. "Have you heard? Well – I'm sure you _heard_ , everyone _heard_ it, but the barrier-"

"I can guess – but more important than that right now; as fast as you can, bring Kuwabara to Hiei and Aria, and have him send Hiei to the Palace." This Botan-person didn't seem to keen on the idea, and tried arguing with the smaller woman, I cringed inwardly as Genkai all but tore her a new one for her 'supreme idiocy in the face of clear priorities'. Ouch.

The blue-haired woman zipped off on the oar again, turning a corner at several gravities'-worth of speed, and we were alone in the chaos.

Genkai turned on me swiftly and I held my breath, not daring to make a sound for fear of earning more of her wrath. "You," she snapped at me "go back to the Temple and don't move a damn muscle."

"Sure," I agreed, but hesitantly added: "alone?" The idea of traveling through the screaming vortex by myself was not a comforting one.

Genkai snapped at me again, and I swore I could hear fear in her voice, then. "I don't have time to explain the seriousness of this situation, _girl._ Nor can I spare anyone to hold your hand."

 _What are you so afraid of, Genkai? Is it a monster, or is it Death?_ I nodded, afraid to question her again. "Where is the portal?" I asked, confident only in that it was a good question to ask.

Genkai reached out into the crowd of swarming Ogres and just _grabbed_ one by the forearm. _"You_ ," she demanded, and the Ogre stopped on command. "Make her a portal to the Human World. I need one to the Makai Palace first."

The Ogre looked in the direction he had been running, but clearly looked unwilling to deny the Master a direct request. He mumbled some sort of assent and we followed him down the short maze of hallways to a relatively open space.

"Master Genkai, you first," The Ogre seemed to do something with a control panel in his hands, pointing it at some empty space. I looked down quickly at the floor, not prepared to look at one just yet. I could hear a rushing wind, and dread settled deep in my stomach. My heart was already beating faster, and it wasn't even my turn yet.

"Hey, _girl_ ," Genkai's call made me look up at her. Her mouth was set in a grim line, and her eyes were pure steel. "Don't burn down my Temple." I nodded slowly, and she grunted. I looked down as she moved towards the rushing-moving-spinning death sound.

And then she was gone.

The rushing sound closed with a _snap!_ , and the hall was silent.

"Tkadlec?" the Ogre asked.

"I'm ready," I affirmed, eyes still fixed firmly on the ground. "Just tell me when it's ready."

He didn't need to tell me – I could hear the rushing storm as soon as the portal opened. I clenched my hand into a fist to keep it from shaking. I was frightened, I'll admit it. I'm not ashamed to be afraid. Because I'm not ashamed to be afraid, I will tell you that my knees trembled as the Ogre told me to step forward. I will tell you that my heart pounded for freedom against the inside of my ribcage. I will tell you that, as he told me how to proceed through the portal without looking around me, I heard his voice only foggily, as though through thick earplugs, as my blood roared in my ears.

The Ogre hummed, and banged a hand against the side of his controller. "Damn thing," he muttered, "does a horrible job." I glanced up briefly, and regretted it. The portal _did_ look horrible.

 _Is it supposed to shake?_ It was definitely shaking. The Ogre didn't seem to notice, as he was still fiddling with his controller. My brain struggled to describe a sight for which it had no reference, and just kept coming up with a blank. I looked back down at my feet, and stepped forward into the _rushing-spiraling-awful-death_ portal.

"Just walk forward, straight, and keep a steady pace _,_ " the Ogre had told me. Easier said than done when the entire world was screaming at you.

The screaming hadn't waited until halfway through this time – it was immediate, and near-overwhelming. The screaming I had heard the first time was worse now – so much worse; the entire _world_ was screaming.

I didn't know what it was, and even while it was an extension of my previous worst-experience-ever, I knew it had to end. I tried covering my ears, but it made no difference. Blue was hot, hot, _hot_ against my chest, and I thought for the first time she might actually _burn_ me.

But I staggered forward, trying to keep an even pace. _I can do this_ , I tried repeating to myself, but could barely hear the thought.

The sound washed over me in waves, drowning me.

I staggered forward, counting my steps, but couldn't maintain a consistent count.

Then the air was trembling – waving in an undulating motion like a deep undertow.

I staggered forward, intent on surviving.

I staggered forward, and all but tripped out of sheer surprise as the screaming stopped. The world lost all sound out of the contrast, and I did have to shuffle around to keep my footing. As it happened, I also them stumbled through the exit – the _blessed exit._

I stumbled out of the portal exit – rougher than I remember entering – into complete darkness. I stood dumbly in the darkness, the reverie of the end of my suffering washing away quickly in my confusion.

 _When did we leave the Temple? Early morning?_ I tried to run a quick calculation in my head, and came up with a time that should not have been midnight. Had I been transported into a closet, maybe? I slid carefully to one side, reaching out blindly for the wall – it should be easy to find the light switch.

 _I never want to travel in a portal again. If they ask, I quit,_ I vowed mentally. My fingers brushed against a hard surface. _Ah! The wall!_ I braced my hand against it, and froze.

It was not a wall.

Or, at least, not a wall at Genkai's Temple.

It had a deep texture, like cut granite quarry walls, but it was warm. Warmer than stone had any right to be, it was… wrong. I couldn't pull my hand away – curiosity held me there, and fear froze me.

If I wasn't in the Temple… where was I?

The air hissed like faraway snakes, or leaves moving in the wind, and I felt the crawling sensation up the back of my neck that any human recognizes. _I'm not alone in here_ , was my realization.

The crackling, hissing, spindly sounds softened, and my heart rate did not go down. Was it getting closer? Moving away? What did the sounds mean? I heard a great intake of breath, like a sleepy sigh, and my heart almost exploded.

The voice was rough, sleepy, and crackled with neglect. "Hello, Weaver."

* * *

A/N: June definitely made a wrong turn at Albuquerque - or someone changed the street signs? ;)

A smidge shorter than the last chapter, but it needed to end here.

This chapter lines up with the Ch 41/42 (From Whence We Came/Walls Fall Down) of Pressed Between Pages.

Many thanks to my reviewers: typiicaltaylor, Sanguinary Tide, roseeyes, and SpiffyPixie1 !

 **PLEASE REVIEW, IT IS WHAT I LIVE FOR!**


	11. Woden and the World

_**Previously, in Weaver's Hands…**_

 _If I wasn't in the Temple… where was I?_

 _The air hissed like faraway snakes, or leaves moving in the wind, and I felt the crawling sensation up the back of my neck that any human recognizes. I'm not alone in here, was my realization._

 _The crackling, hissing, spindly sounds softened, and my heart rate did not go down. Was it getting closer? Moving away? What did the sounds mean? I heard a great intake of breath, like a sleepy sigh, and my heart almost exploded._

 _The voice was rough, sleepy, and crackled with neglect. "Hello, Weaver."_

* * *

My skin tried to crawl completely off of my body. It wanted to be somewhere else – somewhere well-lit and warm and _not_ wherever I was at that moment. It was done, thank you very much.

"Will you answer me, Weaver?" the crackly voice asked, followed by a short set of footsteps; a hesitant, brief approach.

I dared not answer.

The voice hummed thoughtfully, and the _room_ hummed with him – buzzing against my hand and trembling beneath my feet. "It's a shame; I have so been looking forward to speaking with you."

 _He knows who I am?_ The thought terrified me. Did he know me as June, or did he know me as Tkadlec? _He called me Weaver,_ I realized. _He knows me as Tkadlec._ My stomach grew sour. _That's impossible._

Another paired set of footsteps grew louder, bringing the mystery voice closer.

"Do you know who _I_ am, Weaver?" the voice hissed. As I didn't reply yet again, it grew angry. "Do they even tell my story in this age?"

The voice sighed, a little clearer now that it had been warmed up through speaking. The figure had moved so close that I could hear breathing, and movement of small items across a surface – a table, maybe? I was still frozen in place, too frightened to move.

A flare of light startled me, and I covered my eyes with my arm, finally releasing my contact with the wall. It seemed so bright because I had been subjected to pure darkness for several minutes, but it was just a match. I blinked rapidly to adjust and lowered my arm as said match lit a candle.

The voice had a body – he looked like an ordinary person. Just a man. He had a bedraggled appearance – lanky dark hair tied back haphazardly, threadbare trousers and tunic that seemed in equally poor condition, and he was barefoot; dirty feet hardly distinguishable from the dark stone underfoot.

He held the candle in a filthy hand and looked at me over his shoulder. The single candle threw the profile of face into stark relief. The ability to place a face to a voice should have given me some comfort, but instead set my teeth on edge from a new fear.

He looked familiar.

Why did he look familiar?

"Am I more, or less, than they speak of me?" He cocked his head slightly to one side, like a bird. "You are… about one hand less than I expected."

"Who are you?"

"She speaks at last." The man set down the candle, and I saw that the table was completely coated in candle wax. Thick white strips of it had coated the legs of the table as they slid downward, turning the entire surface into a bulbous shape, not unlike wet cave stone. He ran a hand over the surface, scratching his nails through the wax to pull off wide strips. "I am what came first. Do they tell you that?"

I took a slow breath to keep my voice from trembling as badly as my body. "I don't know who you are."

"No?" All the hair on my body stood on end as he smiled. And then he spoke in _Czech._ "What is more important, Tkadlec; the shuttle, or the thread?"

My chest was tight.

It was hard to breathe.

" _Who are you?_ " It barely came out from around the stranglehold my heart had on my throat.

His eyes narrowed, and the skin of his face twisted into a snarl. "I am the spider, hidden; made hidden. I am the truth, removed from the story that Tkadlecs tell their children. You have been lied to all your life." He chuckled darkly, and the predatory look fell from his face. "I imagine no one even remembers the lie anymore – it has become who and what you are.

His eyes were locked on mine – black, deep – as he held out a hand. "We have so much in common, you and me. More than you know, Weaver. _Wouldn't you like to know who you are_?"

My hand flew to my chest as he stepped closer. I didn't have a weapon, but a cold sensation on my skin reminded me that I always had the Shuttle. _I don't want to use it, but is not using it worth dying?_

He tried to offer me a smile as he approached, but it did something horrible to his face. "Don't you want to be friends, June?"

I decided that dying now was a worse option than dying later. I plunged my hand under my sweater, seizing the shuttle. Blue surged up against me, and the Pull nearly knocked me off my already shaky knees.

" _No!_ " The man screamed and lunged at me.

I could feel Blue's question in the Shuttle – _what do you need?_

"Sanctuary!" I cried in desperation. Through my body I felt her power _push_ , trying to press the weight of the world against the frightening figure. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction – as I pushed forward, I fell backward out of his reach. I fell beyond where the wall should have been. I turned as I fell and saw the world torn apart at the base – the very form of the universe – and I fell through into the place between spaces.

The man stopped at the breach – he was unwilling to follow into the heart of the universe. _"Dusana did not answer the call,"_ he roared after me. _"Follow the Line!"_

And the hole through which I fell closed behind me, silencing his cries of frustration.

* * *

I fell

down

and down

down

and

 _through_

there was singing

not from voices but from

space

and it

tore

right through me

like a bright

white

sword

of God

leaving me falling

falling through

falling

Fell.

* * *

I crashed _hard_ into solid stone, landing awkwardly on my leg my ankle rolled badly and I felt something crumble and give. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out and tasted blood in my mouth. I groaned, fluttering my hands over my ankle – afraid to touch it for fear of increasing the waves of pain that instantly started radiating off of it.

I chose instead to brace my hands against the stone floor. Stone again – had I escaped?

A warm, orange glow diffused the room and – for one, heart-stopping moment – I believed that I might not have gone anywhere at all. I lifted my head slowly, very slowly. Relief flooded me – it wasn't the same place – soon followed my dread.

I didn't know this place.

And, as I looked around, for the second time I realized I was not alone.

Across the small stone room, sitting on a wide stone slab, a hulking monster of a man stared at me. He was the picture of age – a thick white beard, long white hair, and sad eyes set deep in his face. His hands, clasped over his lap, would have made fists the size of bowling balls.

I kept my grip on the Shuttle, not willing to release Blue quite yet if I was still in danger.

 _Where did you take me,_ I thought to Blue.

She could not answer me with a voice, being without one, but she was comfortingly warm in my hand. This was a safe place, she was telling me.

 _Doesn't feel like it_ , was my retort.

The Shuttle buzzed in my hand. _Trust me._

"I think ye must be lost," said the old man.

"Who- who are you?" I was asking the same question of a different person, but this situation felt much less threatening.

"An old man in a dark place." He stood and approached me, and the closer he got the wider my eyes got. I looked up, and up, and _up_ , craning my head back to see his face atop the massive body.

He reached for me on the ground – to help me up, I now know – but I shot out my arm, summoning Blue forward from where she was hiding under my skin. Her form flared before mine – my blue, avenging angel putting her body between mine and this second monster reaching for me.

He stopped instantly. "Ye're a Tkadlec," the man whispered with no small amount of awe. He fell to his knees in a great trembling of stone, prostrating himself before me in the most reverential bow. His forehead touched the floor, and I blinked, not sure what to do. He was murmuring something under his breath – like a prayer.

"Uh…?" I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what was going on. I pulled Blue back into my skin, and her form vanished from the air.

At the sound of my voice, he stopped mid-prayer and looked up from his prone position. His eyes were damp and red. Hope shone brightly in his eyes. "Please, _please,_ help my friend. Something horrible has happened – can ye feel it?"

As soon as he mentioned it, I _could_ feel it. The building was shaking and dust rained from the ceiling intermittently. There was an angry hum in the air.

To my everlasting shame, I replied: "I… I'm sorry. I can't." I was afraid. I was a coward.

" _Please_ – aren't ye s'pposed to fix things that've broken? I've lost everything – _everything_ – that I've ever loved. I'm begging you; save this girl." His face was made of despair and desperation. "I… I have nothing to give ye but my word… that if ye call for Woden's aid it will _always_ be answered."

To my everlasting shame, I replied: "I can't."

I didn't want to die.

I didn't want to use the Shuttle, because it would kill me faster.

I put years of my life ahead of helping someone in the direst time of theirs.

To my everlasting shame.

I gripped the Shuttle tightly. _Take me back to the Temple_.

It was cold in my hand – she wanted me to stay. She wanted to comply with this man – Woden's – wishes.

 _Take me back,_ I called to Blue. She was angry with me, I knew it. I pressed harder with my request, and though she was icy-cold in my hand she found the edges of the world, and slippery-smooth pushed them to either side beneath me.

I fell down into the space between spaces.

* * *

I spun through stars

heard far-off singing

and crying

and a voice calling me

Familiar

and strange

* * *

And then I was out. I fell – always falling – onto stone again. This stone was in the sun, though. This stone had grass peeking out from between the pavers. This stone was at the Temple. I sobbed in relief and tried to stand.

My ankle had other plans, forcing me back to the ground with frightful force. I half crawled, half pulled myself towards the porch, and heaved myself up onto the wraparound. I sighed heavily and leaned against the post. The cold wood felt good against my flushed skin.

 _Safe._

 _At last._

* * *

A/N: WHEW! What a wild ride! June did _not_ have an easy trip back from Spirit World. We've met "the enemy", and got to see a bit of Woden before Kurama and Yusuke stopped by for his help.

I'm really enjoying being able to focus on just one story (haven't been able to do that in a long time!), and I hope that I'm going to be able to post chapters a wee bit faster than I've been doing in the past.

Many thanks to my reviewers: halem847 and roseeyes!

 **PLEASE REVIEW!** Comments and reviews encourage me to write!


	12. What I Want

It took me some time to work my way further into the Temple. It was a combination of a hop and a drag across the floor, combined with some indignant yelping on my part. But I got there.

I knew that we kept a first-aid kit under the bathroom sink, but at that moment I didn't think a few band-aids and some hydrocortisone cream would help. Instead, I went for the good stuff under the sink. Genkai sure liked her hard liquor, and she wasn't tall enough to store it any higher, for which I thanked my lucky stars.

A shot or two later the sharp edge had worn down on my pain, and I settled my head down on the table. I thanked my lucky stars again, this time for short tables. It was nice not to have to stand up. The table's wood felt cool on my face, and the numbing effect of the alcohol helped to hold back the nightmares that were sure to come later.

Hands, reaching for me.

A wall that breathed and quivered.

A single candle, flinging back the darkness.

 _Don't you want to know who you really are?_

My spiraling fear was interrupted by voices outside – Genkai's familiar crackle, and Kazuma's as well. Whatever catastrophe she had intended to divert must have been over, but her hushed tone sounded angry. I wondered why she was keeping her voice down, but as the shoji door slid open I realized it was night outside.

I caught a brief glance of Kazuma, the back of his head, as he started to descend the stairs. _He doesn't want to talk to you,_ I thought to myself. _Probably because you're a monster._ I set my head down on the table and felt good and sorry for myself.

"What happened to you?" Genkai's tone was an accusation.

I looked up. Her sleeves were coated in blood.

" _Bozhe moy…_ what happened?" I answered her question with my own.

She glanced down, barely acknowledging the blood. "It's not mine."

 _Not really an answer._

Genkai grabbed the bottle from the table. "This is my good sakѐ."

"Sure tasted good," I murmured, reaching to refill my cup. Genkai didn't stop me, and instead retrieved a second cup from the kitchen. She sat across from me and poured herself a hefty amount. She took several deep draughts before she spoke again.

"Tell me what happened."

"I don't think I'm ready."

"Fuck ready." She finished the cup of sakѐ. "People died tonight because of secrets. More might still die. Enough." She poured herself a full cup, and refilled mine as well. "Tell me everything."

The sakѐ must have loosened my tongue more than I realized, as the story of my multiple trips through portals of Hell tumbled out in a jumbled mess. It hurt my stomach, and sent shivers running down my spine. The hair on the nape of my neck stood up as I spoke about the man in the cave. About his ragged appearance.

"What was his name?" Genkai asked when I was done.

I wracked my brain. "He didn't tell me. Called himself 'the spider', in a way."

Genkai mulled that over. "And the man in the second room?"

"Woden." Genkai nodded at that.

Genkai looked up at me, and opened her mouth as if to speak. I tried blearily to focus on her face but it was getting more difficult. She closed her mouth, seeming to think better of what she was about to say. She stood from the table, walking around to help me stand. "You should get some rest, come on. You probably need some help to wrap that ankle, helpless kitten that you are."

And so I let the old, short, curmudgeonly woman escort me to bed, wrap my swollen ankle, and tuck me under the heavy comforter. Her hands lingered on the comforter, and – I may have imagined it, but I could have sworn she did – she smoothed my hair back over my forehead, feeling my temperature like a mother might. It was a tender concern, and it left the only clear part of my mind wondering what horrible things she had witnessed that day to leave her worried for me.

But the thoughts drifted away as I sank into a fitful sleep.

 _I sat on a low stool, feet buried in the coarse, stone-like sand, watching the ocean crash against the shore. It pulled at my feet, trying to drag me down, down, down. But I was firmly planted in the sand, and would not move._

 _The crashing waves and salty spray made a deep, rumbling bass of energy followed by the high keen of accompanying retreat. I heard the high call of a bird in reply, and the ocean roared louder. It was a beautiful unintentional call and answer made into symphonic music._

 _I hunched low against a powerful gust of wind, though it blew right through me anyway. The screech of a new bird called from the cliffs behind me. I turned to look and a wave crashed over me, dragging me beneath the current._

 _It was blue, blue, and blue everywhere I looked. There was no direction to my suffocation though there was a distinct feeling of falling deeper. It was crushing, heartless, and cold._

* * *

My hangover was positively lethal.

Hobbling to the bathroom was its own excruciating experience, and the heaving over the toilet was unpleasantly familiar. Even empty, my stomach rebelled, demanding more motion. I stood at the sink and tried splashing water over my face. It helped a little, but the residual salt sweat was unpleasant on my tongue.

My hobbling around the Temple was even less graceful than when I had been drunk. My ankle had swelled considerably in the night, and any of the pain the alcohol had dulled had come roaring back with a vengeance.

I knew Genkai would be waiting in her usual spot at the low table. I knew she would have some hot tea in front of her, and she would likely let me steal a cup if I was silent about it. I wasn't expecting her to have a bottle of painkillers waiting as well.

 _Concern._

"Sit," Genkai commanded. I struggled to settle myself down on the floor with only one good foot, but managed to do it without falling down entirely. Without hesitation, Genkai demanded I produce my swollen ankle. I did so hesitantly, and she palpated the bones of my ankle a little less gently than I would have liked.

"Hey!" I yelped, but she held my foot firmly. She glared at me, and I stopped fidgeting.

"It's not broken, but you should wear a boot just to be safe." She shook her head, releasing my foot.

"I don't like those," I whined. "They're heavy. And loud. I will clomp-clomp around everywhere like a horse."

"You'll wear it, and shut up about it." Genkai's threat was very thinly veiled. _Do it, or I'll make you regret it._ "You want to walk with a limp forever?"

"…no," I muttered, admitting defeat.

She smirked. "Then you'll wear the boot."

I sat on the wraparound porch, enjoying the slivers of sunshine slipping through the trees and under the overhang of the roof. It was peaceful at the Temple. It was a peace unlike any I had known since before I lost my hand. It was so fragile, like a tender, humming, bird heart I clutched in my hand just on the verge of crushing it. I was on the verge of destroying the world. On the verge every day.

It frightened me – power frightened me. I could try to hide it from Genkai, try to tell her that I couldn't be afraid of the power, as it was how I survived.

Survival, though, is not always without fear. Every time I had chosen to use the power, to call on Blue, I had weighed the value of my life against the cost of the situation. I had to decide that warmth was more valuable than turning sixty. I had to decide that escape was more valuable than turning fifty-nine.

I wasn't ready to make those decisions for the benefit of others. I couldn't take someone's need and weigh it against my desire to turn fifty-eight. What if I didn't find the cause… worthy? How could I explain it to them? _I'm sorry, small child, but your clubbed foot isn't valuable enough for me to fix, you can live ok with it as it is._

No.

I wouldn't do it.

I would take their hate, and their rejection, and their spite – as is. I could take any amount of scorn like another scar on my flesh, I certainly had enough scars already. I would take the biting words, and the curses, and the frustration that came to blows.

I could take it.

I would live a long, fulfilling life, stained by hate.

I was ok with that.

Another example of the scorn of others, Genkai appeared at my shoulder with the boot-of-doom in her hands. "Here," she shoved it into my arms. "Don't twist your other ankle."

"That would be stupid of me to do." I struggled with the clasps of the boot and the little inflatable bits, but I eventually got it on ok. It did feel better than just an ace wrap.

"As opposed to how you are naturally?" I expected her to leave, but she stayed. She continued to stare at me, like a cat watching a bird struggle to take off on the ground.

"What?" I barked, her long gaze making me uncomfortable.

"I can't begin to understand the choices that you've had to make, but you should know this one is wrong."

I bristled. "That's your opinion." But she sounded so certain.

She turned her gaze away from me, and when I tried to follow her attention I found it to have settled on nothing at all. She was looking out over the courtyard, beyond the trees in her field of view, past the softly drifting clouds. She was lost.

"I don't think it's a coincidence that so much change has happened in the last few years." Her face was grim, and her mouth settled into a hard line as she considered her next words. "You're the third strange girl to end up at my door in that time, and you all carried in no small amount of baggage." She finally glanced at me. "You're the strangest, and definitely not my favorite."

"My feelings are greatly hurt; I feel you should know that," I responded dryly.

If the older woman was in the habit of rolling her eyes, I'm sure she would have. "You're a pain in my ass. You're the first person with so much power to change the shitty lives of others and a dead refusal to do so."

"Do you want to be the one to ask me to give up my life for others?" I spoke slowly, emphasizing the message I had repeated over and over to myself a thousand times.

"How fucking entitled are you?" she snapped. "People are _dying_."

" _I_ could die!" I shouted back. "I could die _soon_ if I try to help everyone! And I am _so sorry_ that I don't have the mental fortitude and – and moral righteousness that you seem to have in _grand_ supply!" I stood unsteadily, wobbling dangerously with the oddly weighted effect of the boot, but I needed to be taller than Genkai in that moment. I held my head high and squared down on her. "I have had _enough_ of you telling me what I should do with my family's curse. If you want to kill me, you might as well do it now and save me the trouble of your eternal lectures!"

Genkai let me yell at her without interrupting, but her reply bore the smallest hint of personal pain. "You really think I want you to die?"

The rage drained from me quickly after my outburst, leaving me feeling embarrassed and a little meek. "I… I don't know what you want."

"I want you to think – _hard_ – and make a decision that's not based in spite."

I rushed to debate: "It's not spite-"

Genkai held up a hand sharply. " _Shut the fuck up_ – of course it's spite! You have every reason to be angry about everything that was stolen from you." She lowered the hand, leaving me thinking that she had been about to smack me. "You need to decide if you are more interested in holding onto what you have left and hunting for what you lost, which will probably never happen, or helping others retrieve what was stolen from _them_ , which you absolutely can do."

She turned, and threw one last remark over her shoulder. "Are you going to remain fixated on the past, or the futures you can change?" She stopped in the doorway. "If you decide you want to give up on your selfishness, come find me."

* * *

Maybe it was emotional exhaustion, maybe it was the ankle, but I found myself drifting lower on the porch as the afternoon drew on. I lay down a little at a time, and eventually fell asleep on the porch like a small child.

 _I was home._

 _I was young._

 _My mother smiled as she swung me round and round in circles, her grasp firm around my ankles. I liked to be spun like this – all the blood rushed to my head and the world got all fuzzy around the edges._

 _My mother leaned down and planted a fierce kiss. A shiny charm swung out from under her loose sweater – hanging from a familiar cord. The Shuttle gleamed in the light, and my mother caught me staring._

" _One day, my beautiful daughter." She hid it from me under her clothes._

 _It was wrong._

 _I was too old._

 _I had too many hands._

 _My mother smiled and took my hand-that-should-have-been-missing. "My beautiful daughter," she called to me. "Isn't this what you wanted?"_

A sharp bird cry woke me from my afternoon nap. I sat up slowly, easing out a crick in my neck. _That's what you get for falling asleep on the porch like a cat._

I fluffed my hair a little to free some of the looser tangles and ran my fingers through the rest of it. I braided it slowly, swinging my feet in the air (one a little slower than the other) and enjoying the late afternoon air.

I hadn't dreamt of my mother for a while. Genkai had somehow wormed her was into my unconscious mind and given me one weird dream.

If I could go back… would I change it? _Only if I didn't have to remember anything_ , I resolved.

I had come to the Temple to find peace, security, and share my grief with someone who would understand what I had lost. That being my only goal for several years, I hadn't really constructed a plan beyond this particular moment in time.

Did I owe Genkai something for this shelter? If this was my goal, my endgame, did it matter if I died tomorrow after helping a hundred people? I gulped, swallowing the thrill of fear that crawled up my throat at the thought. _But I don't want to die._ I was afraid of death, which any sane person would be.

I wished deeply, powerfully, that my life had been different. I didn't want to be sitting here with an almost-broken ankle. I didn't want to be in Japan. I didn't want to be a Weaver.

I wanted to be a normal girl, gossiping with friends at a café.

I wanted the power to choose my future – get a normal job, have a boring marriage, have a couple of normal kids.

I wanted to be home, with my mother and grandmother.

 _I've never felt so alone._ Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

A strangled noise from the other end of the courtyard drew my attention instantly.

Kazuma stood at the top of the stairs, face flushed.

I stared back.

 _What's he doing here?_

"Hello," I greeted. He looked at me blankly. I worried for a moment – had I spoken in Russian or Japanese? I tried again, a little more clearly. "Good morning."

No answer. Kazuma stared at me blankly. Was he still angry?

Kazuma broke his gaze with me and dug around in his pockets for a moment, and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper, scanning it quickly before shoving it in his pocket. He looked ready to fight, and my heartrate accelerated as he stomped across the courtyard towards me.

He still managed to be taller than me, though he was standing on the ground and I was sitting on the elevated porch. He cleared his throat and leveled his jaw.

Kazuma struggled a few times to get words out of his mouth, but the first sounds shocked me deeply.

" _Prosti menya, Pozhaluysta."_

* * *

A/N: Google translate is my friend. I have gotten in the habit of translating things a few times just to be sure I'm not saying something weird, but it sure is strange trying to write a bilingual character in a realistic fashion.

I'm not super thrilled with this chapter and can't put my finger on exactly why. Hope you liked it anyway. Mmmmmmm character development...

Many thanks to my reviewers: Sanguinary Tide, roseeyes, SpiffyPixie1, and halem847!

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**

This is the only story I'm working on right now, so more reviews means I feel good about writing and write faster!


	13. Pain and Forgiveness

Kuwabara definitely hadn't been quite ready to see the stoic Czech woman.

A loose tail of braided hair was swung forward over one shoulder – _how did she braid her hair –_ and was a little damp from the humidity. It was warm, but she wore yet another large sweater, the arms pushed up to her elbows.

She was easy to stare at, though never commented even when Kuwabara realized he had been staring. It was like going to the zoo and watching the big cats walk around. They never did anything really interesting, but you just knew that they _might_.

But that one time, _man, oh man_. It hadn't been demonic or spiritual energy in the air, but something else. And not 'something else' like Sensui's Sacred Energy. Hers had been a raw energy – of pure life.

Kuwabara hadn't been ready to see her – he was nervous, of course – but more so he wasn't ready to see her on the verge of breaking.

She was staring off into the forest, and her eyes were misted over. Her face was screwed up into a grimace of pain and barely-contained grief. Her shoulders trembled as she took a deep breath, and her whole body shuddered on the exhale. All at once she stopped, and her body went sort of… slack.

It was like watching someone's dreams die.

Kuwabara's emotions caught in his throat in a strangled sound which drew her attention instantly. Her green eyes thundered through him; fixing him to the ground as firmly as a rooted tree. Not green like Kurama's bright, sharp, deadly emerald, but a hazy green like dew-coated moss.

 _Okay, you can do this,_ Kuwabara told himself. _I'm just gonna check on those words one more time_. He grabbed his little cheat-sheet from his pocket, giving himself one more run to attempt to memorize the words.

She was still staring when he looked up from the piece of paper. _Now or nothing_ – _get moving!_ Spurred on by his own erratic, nervous heart he stomped across the courtyard to the smaller woman. She looked up at him with that look of hers that made him feel like a mouse caught in Eikichi's predatory path.

" _Prosti menya, Pozhaluysta."_ he threw out the words a little more aggressively than he had meant to. _Please forgive me._

Novak's mouth went a little slack, and her brow knitted in – confusion? Anger? He couldn't tell.

Kuwabara kept going, stumbling through his rehearsed Russia phrases, slowing down and lowering his voice from the near-shout where he had started. _If she only told me swearwords I'm gonna kill Shizuru_ , he thought. It had been hard to convince her to help him, but it needed to be right.

" _P-prosti,"_ his lips had a hard time with the combination of sound. _I'm sorry._

"I am a stupid man," he continued, struggling with the _chelovek_ and _glupyy._ "I think slow, and get angry fast."

" _Yesli ya prichinyu vam bol', prostate. Ya ne serdilsya na tebya."_ It was the longest – and hardest – of the Russian he'd tried to cram in his memory. _If I hurt you, forgive me. I was not angry with you._

Novak had her hand over her mouth, and her other arm held protectively over her stomach. Her eyes were brimming with tears. " _Ya ne obizhayus."_ Her voice came out as a croak.

 _Shit._ Kuwabara instantly started to sweat bullets. _I have no idea what she just said. Would it be bad to ask her to say in in Japanese? Will that ruin everything?_

She seemed to read his mind and smiled, dropping her hand into her lap. "I do not need to forgive you; only understand you." Her smile was brighter and more open than he had ever seen it, and there was a joyous light coming from inside her eyes. It also made him realize that she had never looked really happy before.

"Do you wanna go for a walk or something?" He offered, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. He really hadn't planned this far, and was sort of amazed that it had seemed to work.

Novak smiled with an ironic twist of her lip, and looked down at her foot. Kuwabara followed her gaze and - "What happened?! Are you okay?! Is it broken _?! Is it gonna fall off_?!" He leaned over to panic in closer proximity, his hands dancing around it without actually touching it.

"You truly didn't see?" She laughed – strong, hearty – and waved him off. "It is fine – not broken – I had an accident." Kuwabara looked up at her face for further reassurance, and her eyes twinkled with barely-concealed mirth. "No walking, though. Sit instead?"

Kuwabara nodded and sat down quickly. "What happened to the flowers?" He brushed his hand through the air and could almost feel his hands skimming over the tops of the tall grasses.

Novak hummed mildly, leaning back on her palm. "They went back to being stone. For the best."

He retracted his hand from the interlaced his fingers in his lap to keep himself from fiddling too much with his hands. Weird as it had been to watch the definitely-stone-courtyard turn unto the wildest, purest, never-been-mowed field of wildflowers he had ever seen, he didn't want to look like he was pushing her to talk about it.

He had been almost at the top of the steps when he heard yelling – Novak, yelling in Russian.

" _Kak vy dumayete, ya vyzhil?" she roared, squaring down with Genkai across from her. She shoved a hand down the collar of her sweater and pulled out a gleaming piece of bronze hanging on a cord. She pulled it loose from its home and held it high above her head._

 _Energy exploded around the piece of bronze, setting Kuwabara's hair on end and overloading his senses all at once. There were tendrils of energy reaching towards the treeline, threading in and out between the branches._

 _Then the tree burst into bloom and color so vibrant it hurt to look at. Petals and whole flowers fell through the air, spinning and lifting in the breeze. Novak seemed to relax a hair, lowering her arm to her side. And her new hand – her_ _ **blue**_ _hand –_

"Kuwabara?" He sat up sharply as Novak interrupted the memory.

"Yeah?" He asked much too loudly. _Nailed it._

"Since we won't go for a walk, what would you prefer?"

"Movie and some snacks?"

Her eyes brightened. "Ah! Yes – would make good practice. People talk very fast in movies."

"You need a hand getting up?" Novak made a face like she would refuse – which he expected – but then she smiled. "If not too much trouble."

Her hand was very small in his, but the pads of her fingers were calloused like his own. She let go of his hand as soon as she was steady, and Kuwabara resisted the urge to offer to help her walk through the Temple.

Instead, Kuwabara walked slightly ahead of the smaller woman, pretending not to notice the heavy sound of the padded boot on the floor. She hopped up to sit on the counter as he stuck the popcorn in the microwave. Her boot made a banging sound as it smacked into the cabinet door below, and she winced. From the noise or from the discomfort, he couldn't be sure without asking. He chose to pretend not to have heard it instead.

"Kuwabara," she started, and clucked her tongue once.

"Yeah?"

"What is – er, words – what is biggest thing someone has asked you to do?"

"Well, I had to help save the world once. That was kind of big I guess."

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Save the world?"

Kuwabara waved a hand like it was nothing. "Yeah – this crazy guy wanted to unleash all of Demon World on the Human World and a bunch of other crazy crap. We thought Yusuke died in the middle of it, but he turned into a demon; it was all really intense."

She blinked a few times, processing. "Were you frightened?"

"I thought my best friend died, so I guess?"

"No, ah…" she pointed to herself. "For you? Scared for yourself?" She pulled on the end of her braid. "Scared, and not want to help?"

"Oh. No, not really. I mean when I got kidnapped I wanted to be un-kidnapped, but I couldn't just leave everybody in danger." He laughed nervously, fluffing the back of his head. "I never really remember to think of myself!"

" _I ya mogu dumat' tol'ko o sebe_ ," Novak murmured under her breath.

"What?" _I think maybe I say that too much_ , Kuwabara thought.

She smiled, and it looked forced. "I think the food is burning, _Voinichok_."

Kuwabara looked over at the microwave – the popcorn bag had gotten stuck against the side of the carousel and was clearly smoldering. He punched the "clear" button and thought twice about opening the door. "Maybe some soda and chips instead?" he offered, and Novak agreed with a chuckle.

The pantry revealed a still-sealed bag of potato chips, and it only took a few moments of rifling around in the old refrigerator to find a set of forgotten sodas. "Uh, what is voin-voinchalk?" Kuwabara asked, popping his head over the open door.

" _Voinichok._ " She giggled at his attempt at reproducing the word. "It is name between friends – nickname?" she cocked her head to one side, thinking, and nodded to herself. "A nickname."

Kuwabara closed the refrigerator door with an elbow, as his hands were occupied with the sodas and the bag of chips he had found in a back corner of the pantry. "What does it mean?"

" _Ya, nadeyalsya, chto ty ne sprosish'…"_ she muttered, smiling. "It is – best word is 'warrior'?" She slid down from the countertop to follow him out of the kitchen and towards the modest living space. The sofa was a relatively new addition, and the television was terribly outdated, but it was comfortable.

Kuwabara beamed. "Back when we were really fighting a lot, I was the Warrior of Love!" He struck a dramatic pose. "What's that in Russian?" he asked, handing her a soda after she sat down.

She laughed, cradling the can in her elbow. " _Voin lyubvi."_

"I thought _voinichok_ was 'warrior?" Kuwabara sat opposite her on the sofa, giving her as much room as possible to get comfortable.

She held up a finger. "I add 'chok' to the end to make it less like the word alone, and more of a name." She glanced at the blank television, and back at Kuwabara. "Are we not watching anything?"

"Oh – right!" Kuwabara jumped up, almost spilling his soda everywhere. "Is there anything you like?"

She shrugged with one shoulder, holding her soda against her torso with her short arm and opening it with her free hand. "I have not seen much, so what you like would be good."

Kuwabara picked a movie at random – an action flick from the substantial stack of them he and Urameshi had left there over the years – and popped it into the VCR.

It took some time before Novak seemed comfortable in the room. She had been wound up tightly, sitting stiffly in the chair and holding closely on to her soda. As the movie had progressed, however, she seemed to relax a little. Kuwabara risked a few glances in her direction every couple of minutes, just to see if she wanted some chips from the bag. She went from insisting on saying 'thank you' every time, to just reaching out her hand blindly for the bag.

Kuwabara let himself relax alongside her, confident that whatever discomfort she may have had with their situation had passed. It was normal for her to be uncomfortable, he knew. She was new to Japan, and it seemed new to just sitting around and relaxing.

Novak was a lot like a stray cat, and Kuwabara had taken care of enough of them to know that you couldn't force friendship on them. You had to pretend not to notice them while leaving out snacks. Eventually, they would decide that you weren't going to chase them around or pull their tail, and would come out in your presence. He was glad, however, that it hadn't taken Novak as long as some of his stray cats. The longest it had ever taken a cat to warm up to him was a month.

On the screen, the knife made a singing, metallic sound as it jammed between a bad guy's ribs. The hero moved on to his next battle and the roaring music chorused in the background. It was a little cheesier than Kuwabara remembered – the bad guy wailing as very fake-looking blood poured out from his chest.

Kuwabara glanced over at Novak to gauge her reaction. had curled her feet under her body while managing to half-balance the soda in her lap, maintaining its position with a casual hand. She had draped the long tail of her hair over her shoulder, following the curve of her collarbone.

Her eyes had kind of glazed over, and Kuwabara was just about to ask her if she didn't like the movie or if the effects were just too cheesy for her when the loud _bang_ of an explosion in the movie startled her, and she lost the grip on her soda can. It spilled all down the front of her thick sweater, staining it a muddled brown.

She exclaimed something that Shizuru had definitely explained as a swear word, plucking the sweater away from her front. "Ah, I have to change – wait?"

Kuwabara could see her hand was shaking, and a thin sheen of sweat dotted her forehead. "Uh – yeah," he agreed, pausing the movie. Novak smiled her thanks, still holding the front of the sweater away from her front. The clunking of the boot drifted off down the hall, and he was surrounded by silence.

Kuwabara drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa anxiously. _Shit_. He had really fucked up. _How was I supposed to know she startled easily,_ he thought. _She didn't seem like the type._ But that had really looked like more than just startled, as well.

Several long minutes passed. No Novak.

Several more minutes.

No Novak.

 _Did she decide against coming back,_ he wondered.

Kuwabara stopped drumming his fingers on the arm of the sofa. Shizuru's hands had shaken like that at loud noises for a while after the Dark Tournament. She had yelled a lot about how startling the noises were, and how he should try harder not to knock things over, or play his loud Megallica music. When he had seen her hands shaking, he had realized it was more than just her usual foul moods.

 _It's not just being startled,_ he realized.

Kuwabara stood abruptly from the sofa, determined to remedy his mistake. He faltered when he realized he had no idea where her room was in the Temple. _I'll figure it out!_

Turns out it wasn't hard – a minute or two of wandering up and down the halls and he heard the _clonk-clonk_ of her boot through a closed door. Kuwabara knocked on her door, and a muffled "open!" replied.

"Novak, are you-" Kuwabara nearly swallowed his tongue as she turned to face him.

She was wearing just a black tank top instead of her usual oversized sweater and for the first time, Kuwabara could see that she had a lot of scars for a girl. It was a lot of scars for _anyone_. There were different thicknesses and lengths and colors striping her back and upper arms, and no real pattern. _A lot at different times._ He had enough friends who grew up in shitty situations to recognize a few of them as cigarette burns, too.

"My hair, also, had soda in it. Needed to get the sticky out." Novak pulled one of her heavy sweaters over her head swiftly without appearing to be in a rush; one of her many skills. "My arm looks like empty puppet from a sock; it does, _Voinichok_?" She mimed it for him, flopping the empty end of her left sleeve around like it didn't hurt her to be different.

She let her grin fade naturally, and pushed the sleeve up to the elbow, before using the curve of her hip to push up the other sleeve. She cocked her head to one side. "Kuwabara?" her voice was hesitant.

Without pausing to think if he was being painfully forward, Kuwabara swept the smaller woman into a hug. She made a small mouse-like chirp of surprise but didn't reject it.

He wanted her to know he was so _sorry_ for what humanity had done to her. He wanted her to know that it wasn't fair – _none_ of her life seemed to be fair. He wanted her to know, without knowing how to express it properly – that he wanted to travel back in time and keep any of it from happening. That she wouldn't have to think about how to tie shoes or put up her hair. He wanted her to be able to watch movies without remembering what people had done to her.

But he didn't have the words.

She seemed to understand, though, as she hugged him back, loosely at first. All at once her embrace became forcefully clinging. She held him very tightly like she was holding on for survival. She didn't cry, or shake, or even make a sound. She just clung to him.

Kuwabara held her close – less tightly than that, but a consistent comfort. Her sweater was soft. When he was younger, such close contact with a girl would have sent him into a babbling, blushing state. This was different, never mind that he was older now. His code of honor was still firmly in place, but it had definitely developed over the years, and comforting someone who was in pain – be it emotional or physical – was definitely a priority. For Novak, it seemed that he had chosen a good comfort method.

Her grip loosened, and Kuwabara let her step back. She smoothed out a scrunched part of his shirt that had gotten caught between them. " _Prosti,"_ she mumbled.

Hey – he knew that word! "Nah, it's nothing," he reassured her. "This is a good shirt – a run in the dryer can get any wrinkle out super easy." Kuwabara tucked his hands into his pockets. "You want to try a different movie? I think maybe that one was better when I was a kid."

She smiled and nodded. "Sounds ok."

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm reminded of one of the rules for actresses at Disney playing the part of the famous princesses: when a child hugs you, you are never the first to let go; you have no idea how much that child might need the hug.

When I wrote this scene I tried to think of the last time June was probably touched by another human in kindness (e.g. a hug) – around the time her Grandmother died. She is **absolutely** touch-starved. Personally, I travel for 5 weeks at a time for my job (which is why chapters can sometimes take forever to come out) and I am a rabid cuddler when I get home. I honestly can't imagine going years without positive human contact. So – hugs are good.

FLUFFY FLUFFY FRIENDSHIP FLUFF

Many thanks to my reviewers: SpiffyPixie1, Sanguinary Tide, RedPanda923, Guest (Trisana), and halem847.

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**

 _ **More reviews mean faster chapters because they're encouraging to me, and man – can you believe how fast I'm posting these days?!**_


	14. Calling Card

_I was running through a field, gasping for breath. Sharp sedges cut at my legs and feet as I charged through the thick underbrush._

 _The Spider was following slowly, his walking pace somehow keeping up with my adrenaline-charged escape. I could hear the rough edges of his clothing pulling against the underbrush like hand pulling me backwards._

 _ **Wouldn't you like to know who you are?**_

 _The sedges around me morphed into spider-silk; the strands stuck to me with gossamer weight, accumulating into a sticky, cumbersome mass around my legs. I swatted them away as much as I could, but the threads were everywhere._

 _I looked back at the Spider, and instantly regretted it. His black eyes were swallowing my soul, and his smile expanded further than anatomy should allow, revealing a mouth full of shark-like teeth. He morphed into a Lion – gargantuan, golden, and growling – and swiftly covered the distance between us. Just as I could feel his teeth closing around my throat-_

I woke up.

This waking was violent.

This waking threw me out of bed, drenched in sweat, crying out. I didn't have far to fall, being a futon on the floor, but it was still jarring. The heavy blankets were wrapped tightly around my body, padding the fall slightly. I swore loudly, fighting off their hot embrace.

My chest heaved as I lay face-down on the floor trying to calm down. It had been a long time since I had a nightmare that intense, and it had never left me feeling personally assaulted. It felt like he was going to emerge from the shadows at any moment and drag me back into the darkness.

I kind of wanted to throw up. I wanted to remake myself in a shape that the Spider wouldn't recognize. I wanted to hide in the corner. I wanted to be invisible.

I sighed deeply, steadying the trembling of my hand, and pushed myself off of the floor.

I peeled my nightclothes off and threw them into the corner with the rest of my dirty clothes. I really needed to do laundry – I was down to a single shirt and a pair of shorts that weren't entirely decent. To be fair, I had owned them since I was barely a teenager, and while I had always been of sturdy stock my legs had lengthened considerably as I grew up.

I gathered up the pile of clothes as best I could – there's always a stray sock that gets forgotten – and wandered off in search of Genkai's laundry facilities. I _clunk-clunk-clunk_ ed down the hallways in my boot until I found the correct room, tucked down the end of a small hallway. I dumped my laundry in the washer and poured detergent into the correct slot with very little review.

I punched the buttons with a sort of malice and leaned heavily against the far wall as the machine rumbled to life. I listened to the water pump kick in and another set of memories washed over me.

 _The crashing waves and salty spray made a deep, rumbling bass of energy followed by the high keen of accompanying retreat. I heard the high call of a bird in reply, and the ocean roared louder. It was a beautiful unintentional call and answer made into symphonic music._

"Have you remembered anymore about the Spider?" Genkai interrupted my relapse into the odd dream, and I started a little, slipping off of the wall.

I didn't have the willpower to be sassy that morning. "I don't remember anything new that I think will be particularly helpful. He was filthy – like he hadn't left the cave in a while." The vivid nature of my nightmare was threatening to rise against the walls of my Will. I had been having such vivid dreams since coming to the Temple.

"What did he know about you? Any of the others?" Genkai turned and walked out of the small room. I assumed I was meant to follow. _Clunk. Clunk. Clunk,_ went the boot.

"He knew me as Tkadlec, which should be impossible." Something else dawned on me. "He – he spoke in Czech, for a minute."

Genkai stopped, turned, and raised an eyebrow. "That could be significant. Why didn't you mention that before?"

I flushed in embarrassment and barked back at Genkai. "A lot happened! You can't blame me for forgetting one tiny thing."

"It's not tiny. Are there any estranged family lines that you know of?"

I shook my head. "I got a quick look at the Line, before…" Before all Nine Hells broke loose. "It's been a while since I met with my cousins, but I think someone would have mentioned him."

Genkai frowned, humming thoughtfully to herself. "You need to look more carefully at the Line. And review the Tale as well – there may be clues there."

"There's no Spider in the Tale – I would have remembered that."

Genkai waved off my objection. "The Tale, as it is preserved in the Spirit World records, would be the _original_ version. Yours has the misfortune of being passed down more than a handful of times. There's no telling how much has changed, even accidentally, over the years." She continued her advance down the hall and we entered her modest sitting room. She sat down easily at the low table, and gestured for me to do the same. It was almost – _almost_ – like a real invitation.

I paled. "I'm not going back through that Portal," I declared. _Clunk. Clunk-clunk._ I grimaced; it was impossible to move silently in the damn boot, let alone ease one's self down onto the floor.

She glanced down at my boot, easily visible as it stuck out from the side of the low table. "No, I suppose you aren't." Genkai tapped a finger against the table, keeping time with an inner thought process. "I'll see what I can do about getting the documents transported here." She shot me an appraising look. "Maybe a translator as well. If your reading comprehension is as shitty as your verbal aptitude, there's no telling what you'll miss."

"Genkai," I asked with trepidation, "what do you know about the Totems?"

"Weavers are notoriously secretive, so I know less than you."

I nodded. "I just know the words – 'three things you will need to Weave the World', but…" I hesitated. "I think maybe it would be useful to know more what they are."

Genkai didn't speak. She stared at me with a passive expression.

I laughed spitefully at myself. "I know I've been… resistant. But I think that maybe it would be alright to just get a better understanding of what's going on." I glanced down at my boot. "Knowledge alone can't do any damage."

Genkai stayed silent – her body was tense and her lips tightly pressed together. The silence sang tightly in the air, interrupted staccato by birdsong filtering through the thin walls. The old master looked like she was forcing herself to be silent thought it caused her physical pain.

"Master Genkai?" I asked in an attempt to break her from her inner turmoil.

"Knowledge can be lethal," Genkai's tongue was sharp as knives. She sounded bitter, angry, and remorseful all at once.

"Do you think I shouldn't try to learn about the Totems…?" I tried to clarify, confused.

She all but growled under her breath, swearing. "I think you should know what you're starting. Don't get me wrong – I want you to learn it all and be a legendary Tkadlec, but I don't want you to be naïve about it."

I thought about it, and nodded. "I appreciate that – thank you for being honest with me."

Genkai grunted, and changed the subject. I suppose gratitude made her uncomfortable. "You won't be good for anything for a few weeks," she commented, glancing again at the boot. I tried not to take it personally - I was essentially a squatter at the Temple. "Call that fool Kuwabara – he forgot to bring my tea yesterday."

I _loathed_ talking on the phone. "But I-" Genkai pointed forcefully at the phone as she left. No room for argument.

I glared at the phone.

It didn't seem to care.

It took a few tries to get up from the table and retrieve the ancient 1990's-era cordless phone from the accent table in the corner. I picked up the phone hesitantly, as thought it might bite me. It did not.

 _This is stupid_ , I chided myself. _It's just a phone call._

Genkai kept a few important phone numbers on a little index card next to the phone, and Kuwabara's was third from the top. I punched in the numbers scribbled on the little card, and listened to the phone ring.

" _Kuwabara household,"_ His voice was a little cracklier over the phone, but it was recognizable.

"Ah, hello – it's Ju- ah, Novak." I really needed to get a handle on the name order situation. It was starting to become embarrassing that I couldn't properly introduce myself.

" _Novak!"_ He sounded surprised that I was calling – not for no reason. _"Is something wrong? Is Genkai okay? Did you hurt your foot more?"_

I flapped my hand a little – couldn't help myself, even though he couldn't see it. "No, no – Genkai asked me to call. You forgot-"

Kazuma interrupted before I could finish. _"Oh no! I totally forgot her tea!"_

I laughed, I couldn't help it. "Ah, yes. When are you coming by again?"

I could hear a rustling of paper. _"I have an interview tomorrow afternoon, but I can come by right after?"_

"It should be okay – there is still a lot of food hiding around. We won't starve."

" _Tell her I'm really sorry, okay?"_

"I will," I promised.

" _You should stay inside tomorrow – it's gonna rain and I don't think that boot is waterproof."_

"I will," I repeated the promise, smiling a little. "Good luck with your interview!"

There was a pause on the line. " _Thanks! I gotta go, ok?"_

"Ok, see you." I couldn't resist the smile spreading wider on my face, as even after the goodbyes Kazuma didn't hang up. He seemed to be waiting, just in case. Several long moments later, I heard the _'click'_ as we were disconnected. Good old household phones – always a satisfying end to a line.

"Kuwabara's coming tomorrow," I announced, knowing that Genkai was probably still within earshot.

Genkai grunted – a confirmation that she had heard me, and that she was definitely a stereotypical nosy old broad.

I _clunk-clunked_ in the direction her grunt had come from and found her in the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do today to help around the Temple?"

She grunted a _no_ grunt. There's a distinct sound – just trust me. "Just keep out from underfoot."

I nodded. "Wouldn't want you to sprain an ankle stepping on me." She glared at me. I deserved it.

* * *

A/N: Hello, friends! My apologies that this chapter took so long (as always) and isn't very long. For one, it's basically ALL exposition, which I loathe. Second, I started working on yet another fanfiction… I'm so sorry. I had this great idea for a story and just had to start working on it! If you're a Captain America fan you'll be excited – I've been writing down some major plot points and I'm already at 4k words! Keep an eye out sometime in the near-ish future for my next new Fic – **"Who is Alice Shaw?"**

On another note – is there any interest in seeing my photo references? I have reference pictures for all of my major characters, Aria, Maggie, June, Mishka, Yasuo, and the Spider! If you are interested, hit me up and I'll see about making an Imgur or something.

Many thanks to my reviewers: SpiffyPixie1, Black Firelight, Guest, roseeyes, Sanguinary Tide, MoonFox940, and Sam!

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	15. Blue's Moon

_I was standing in a cavernous room, with thin white curtains billowing in the wind. There was a dark bird perched on the edge of a balcony, calling to me._

" _I heard you," I replied, unsure why. I reached for the raven but it flew past me, through the open doorway and into the cavernous room around me. Gossamer spider webs had filled the room from corner to corner, floor to ceiling. The bird struggled as the threads stuck to her feathers._

" _Wait!" I cried as she struggled, and the screeching that filled the room cut into my heart. I reached for the raven and she slashed at me with her claws, even as she hung in tangles in the air. I turned away from her slashing claws, and she struck at my back._

 _I moved away from her, towards the billowing curtains of the open door, and glanced back. 'I'll be back – I promise."_

* * *

I rubbed at my eyes as I stood in front of the stove, waiting for the kettle to come to a boil, thinking that the strange dreams came from sleeping in so late – it was early afternoon when I finally crawled my way out of bed. Good rest seemed so hard to find, and recent tossing and turning had put bags under my eyes and stiff knots in my hair.

I was rubbing the sleep from my eyes and flexing my jaw a little to ease some tension when Genkai appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Good morning," I greeted, pausing to yawn. "There'll be tea in a minute."

Genkai looked cranky, but kept her greeting to a demand of " _Soon_."

"Yeah, sure; I-" Genkai spun on her heel and abandoned me in the kitchen without waiting for another word. "Somebody's grouchy…" I muttered to myself.

The kettle shrieked for my attention, and I whisked it off the stove as fast as possible. I felt almost a little hungover and couldn't stand the additional noise from the kettle. Pouring the hot water into the teapot, I stopped to appreciate the waft of steam that rolled up and around my face. It brought back a glimmer of a dream, from a different night…

 _The crashing waves and salty spray made a deep, rumbling bass of energy followed by the high keen of accompanying retreat. I heard the high call of a bird in reply, and the ocean roared louder._

"Are you going to let that tea freeze into an ice cube before you intend to serve it?" Genkai shouted from the next room, clearly at the limit of her patience. I performed the best scramble to attention that I could, collecting two teacups under my arm and grabbing the handle of the teapot with my hand.

"Excuse you," I raised an eyebrow as I set down the teapot on the table. "Do you have something you want to say to me?"

Genkai huffed a little, as I had deliberately set the teapot down too far away for her to reach. This forced her to look at me, and perhaps to even _ask_ me to bring it closer. In essence, I was forcing her to acknowledge my clearly perturbed expression, and hopefully respond.

It took a few seconds, but she graced me with an irritated glance as she leaned far over the table to grab at the teapot herself. "If you're going to stomp around the temple in the middle of the night, at least have the decency to muffle that damn boot."

I blinked, confused both by her statement and her utter disinterest in asking for assistance. "What are you talking about? I slept like the dead last night."

Genkai snorted. "The walking dead, maybe."

"I don't sleepwalk." It was difficult to make eye contact to ensure she could see the truth in my face, but I know she could hear it in my tone.

Genkai raised her eyes slowly to meet mine. "I could hear you clomping around in the stupid thing at all hours."

"And I'm telling you it wasn't me!" I waved a hand around vaguely. "Maybe you've got some fairies living in the attic or something."

The old woman was looking me up and down. I was serious, and she could see it. I know she saw it. Genkai's expressions were always on the subtle side, but I could identify her grumpy obstinacy morphing into confusion. She held my gaze, weighing my apparent certainty. She looked me up and down, and her gaze settled on the small bronze shuttle hanging over my sweater.

Her face flickered through a series of emotions and an apparent revelation, and I felt a stone sink in my stomach. It was the look you give to your favorite aunt when you realize that her health has started to fail. It was the look a farmer might make after seeing a treasured horse break an ankle. It was a look that realized death was hanging just over one's shoulder. "What?" I asked, not really wanting an answer.

She set her tea down, placing her palms on the table as if to brace herself. "Did you ever give Blue an open-ended request?"

"What?" I asked again, not really understanding what she was getting at. "What do you mean?"

She spoke slowly, enunciating for the upmost clarity. "How specific have you been in your requests to the Shuttle?"

"I… I just – It depends, I guess?" I leaned back from the table as she leaned forward.

"Do you tell her specifically what you want her to do, and when the permission to use your energy ends?" From the look of pity that bloomed on Genkai's face, I know she could read the horror that spread across mine.

My chest was burning hot, and sounds were coming in fuzzily and disjointed. "She- she can't… Not without my permission…"

Genkai looked away. "Obviously she can, if you don't explicitly limit her."

Some unfamiliar noise came out of my mouth – not a laugh, not a sob. "So all my dreams – those faces, those places-"

Genkai still wouldn't meet my eyes. "She was using your body."

I was shaking my head, shaking it over and over again. "I wouldn't – I didn't want to weave. I wanted to…"

 _I wanted to grow old._

 _I wanted to live._

Bile rose in my throat and I lurched towards the door. I heaved over the side of the porch onto the stone courtyard. There was only hot tea in my stomach mixed with the yellow-green bile, and it steamed in the cool air. I heaved once more before I fully emptied my stomach.

My hand shook uncontrollably as all of the strength went out of my limbs. I still felt like I had been poisoned by an injection of pure fire.

"You should have known better than to play with a power you didn't fully understand." Genkai's tone was patronizing and furious, but left an aftertaste of regret.

I didn't try to push myself up from my prone position. I lay on my chest and let the world tremble around me. "When she gave me the Shuttle, she died. What more could there be? She should have been able to pass along the gift to my mother, but the Shuttle wouldn't take her. So my grandmother had to keep going. The shuttle started to reject her in the end, so she passed it on to me. She couldn't teach me… couldn't help me to understand."

"Did you ever stop to think the shuttle started to reject her in an attempt to save her life?"

"That's ridiculous."

"You said it has a will – you tried to throw it away but couldn't; it wouldn't let you. The shuttle rejected your mother because she would have destroyed the world in her madness. It started to reject your grandmother because it was too taxing on her – taking too much of her life with each summoning. But your grandmother ignored it, trying to give you as much of a childhood as she could. With all of that sacrifice, you were still left bearing a great burden."

I was shaking my head, hitting it a little on the porch. I didn't want to believe her words – didn't _want_ to believe that something I hated, something that was killing me slowly, was doing it in the slowest way possible because it _cared_.

Genkai spoke louder, forcing her voice over my physical protestations. "But also think of the thing you call _Blue Bitch_ ; it _loves_ your family. Without you, she would be bound in darkness for eternity. You literally give up pieces of your lives so she can come into being. She does her best to save your lives – to jump to the next host as soon as possible while preserving the integrity of her purpose. You think your actions are futile? She tries to save you all and she will always fail."

* * *

I didn't leave the porch. I stayed, prone, head hanging over the side. Every now and again my stomach would roll and write, and I would make the most awful retching noises you ever heard.

I threw the shuttle away, but it was just an illusion.

Over and over and over again I tried to throw it away, but it would always reappear around my neck, having never moved at all.

The shuttle stayed silent. It did not buzz against my chest or grow warm as it usually did. The shuttle stayed silent.

Late in the day, as the light started to grow weak, it started to rain. I didn't move from my position on the porch, and as the wind grew stronger and the rain crept onto the porch I did not move. As the thunder rolled in over the horizon and grew furious, I did not move.

I screamed with the thunder until my voice grew hoarse.

 _Useless._

My choices didn't matter.

Blue had only to wait until I fell asleep to do whatever she wanted because of my carelessness.

I tore at my chest with my hand, hoping that if I pulled at enough of my torso I might eventually get at the real shuttle. Fabric rendered under my hands as the tight knit of my sweater snagged and pulled away. I stood, stumbling away from the temple porch as I pulled at myself, throwing away illusion after illusion and only serving to throw bits of yarn.

The boot – the terrible traitorous boot that had given away what the Shuttle had done – became so constricting as I pulled at my clothes. The pressure became too much all at once and I sank to the ground, determined to remove it. If I couldn't pull away the shuttle – that horrible, world-ending constriction – I could at least get out of that. It was the symbol of treachery I could actually remove. I threw it as far away from me as possible, enjoying the satisfying _thunk_ of its contact with a tree.

I sat on the ground in a puddle, chest heaving, as the rain pounded down on my head.

All of my energy was spent.

"Novak?" The voice came tentatively from the darkness. Kazuma stood at the top of the temple steps, sheltered under an umbrella from the raging storm. His trousers were slightly stained with water, ruining the crisp pleat. He had rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt, loosened the tie around his neck, and hung his jacket casually over one shoulder with his free hand. He looked a picture of relaxed dignity; a stable presence in a storm.

A sob coughed from my throat, and I stood clumsily to run forward into his arms, ignoring the singing white-hot pain from my ankle. He caught me, letting the umbrella tumble from his hand and his jacket slip into the mud. He was instantly drenched as I was. "Hey, hey – what's wrong?"

" _Ya ne khochu umirat'_ ,"I burbled, unable to manage anything else, prattling on an endless series of Russian words beyond Kazuma's comprehension. " _Ya boyus'_ ," I sobbed, my chest heaving with grief. " _Ya ne khochu ischezat."_

Kazuma held me as I rattled off my fears in a fashion he couldn't hope to follow. He held me as the thunder roared overhead and rain soaked us to our bones. He held me as the strength faded from my body.

He was there.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all so much for your patience – I've been having trouble writing recently, and sort of trudged my way through writing this, a few lines at a time for a long time. I wanted to write this and it was just so emotional and heart-wrenching that it just kept ripping my guts out.

Thank you to my reviewers: roseeyes, halem847, and Sanguinary Tide!

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**

(Shameless plug here) and go follow my new story for if I ever feel like updating it! **Who is Alice Shaw?** , a Captain America story!


	16. He Who Walks Behind

_Previously, In Weaver's Hands…_

 _Kazuma stood at the top of the temple steps, sheltered under an umbrella from the raging storm. His trousers were slightly stained with water, ruining the crisp pleat. He had rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt, loosened the tie around his neck, and hung his jacket casually over one shoulder with his free hand. He looked a picture of relaxed dignity; a stable presence in a storm._

 _A sob coughed from my throat, and I stood clumsily to run forward into his arms, ignoring the singing white-hot pain from my ankle. He caught me, letting the umbrella tumble from his hand and his jacket slip into the mud. He was instantly drenched as I was. "Hey, hey – what's wrong?"_

" _Ya ne khochu umirat',"I burbled, unable to manage anything else, prattling on an endless series of Russian words beyond Kazuma's comprehension. "Ya boyus'," I sobbed, my chest heaving with grief. "Ya ne khochu ischezat."_

 _Kazuma held me as I rattled off my fears in a fashion he couldn't hope to follow. He held me as the thunder roared overhead and rain soaked us to our bones. He held me as the strength faded from my body._

 _He was there._

* * *

Kazuma led me gently into the temple, leading me on my own power to the bathroom. We left a puddle trail through the halls but neither of us commented on that. He held onto my arm with gentle presence as he fished around in a cabinet for fresh towels, most of which he pressed into my arms after draping one around his own neck. "I'll be right outside," his voice was soft but left no room for argument.

I stared blankly at the door as he shut it with a gentle _click_ of well-oiled parts. My gaze swept through the room, examining the fixtures with a blank detachment. Genkai's guest bathroom wasn't the most extravagant – no luxurious Japanese tub with pre-wash station; just a standard Western shower, toilet, and sink.

I turned on the shower, cranking the temperature as high as it would go. My clothes resisted me as I peeled them from my flesh, each emitting a squelching sound as they were deposited on the clean tile floor. I stepped into the shower without checking the temperature, and could only hiss in discomfort and irritation as I was instantly scalded. My skin pinked quickly under the steaming torrent, then turned an angry red. I passively let it clean me well enough, half-heartedly applying soaps as necessary.

I was numb on the inside. I had expelled a lot of emotional energy all at once, and though normally I would have been mortified by such a personal display I just couldn't summon the energy. I was certain that if Kazuma hadn't appeared I would have spent all night screaming at the thunderstorm.

I was frustrated, but it was little more than a cold ache in my chest at that point. It was a deep-seated burning grief. It was grief that had flared into a magnificent bonfire before settling into a disappointing pile of embers. Flickers of emotion cut through me, shaking a sob from my throat with staccato timing but never anything more.

The water had nearly run cold when I turned the shower off. I wrapped one of the towels Kazuma had pressed upon me around my body.

I opened the door just a hair, and – true to his word – Kazuma was waiting in the hall. He had a small pile of clothes in his arms now. "Genkai says these are yours – fresh from the dryer." I nodded, accepting the bundle. It wouldn't register until much later that Genkai had taken the care to take my clothes and put them in the dryer; pre-warming them to help me recover from the chilly soak I had taken outside.

I dressed with little more than lethargy, barely bothering to dry the shower water off of myself before putting on the cozy clothes. Genkai had chosen well for someone who mostly seemed to despise me – warm leggings, a normal t-shirt, and a chunky sweater that didn't appear to appreciate being run through the dryer.

I did not look at myself in the mirror before opening the door. I didn't want to look at myself. I didn't want to see the Shuttle hanging over my chest. I didn't want to think about it.

Kazuma held up a hand to stop me from exiting the bathroom. He gestured to my soaking wet hair with a brief wave. "You'll catch a cold like that – here." He gestured for me to back up, and sit on the closed lid of the toilet. He rummaged around in the cabinet under the sink, muttering "usually someone leaves one here…" before producing a hairdryer. "Close your eyes, ok?" he asked, plugging the dryer into the wall.

I sat in silence as Kazuma dried my hair. He paused briefly to hunt for a brush under the sink, but managed to make do with a nice comb he found instead. I wondered how he knew to work with women's hair, but I strongly suspected his older sister was to thank for it.

I objected somewhat to being treated like a small child, but – yet again – that required energy and effort. Kazuma did a fair job of keeping me from dying of a cold, and my hair was actually nicer than usual when he pronounced me dry enough to leave the bathroom. I noticed that he had changed, but his own hair was slightly damp – just towel-dried, then.

"Do you want to get some sleep?" he asked as I followed him down the hall.

I shook my head. "Not sleepy." Just emotionally exhausted, but too proud to admit it.

He glanced at me, pausing a second to determine if he wanted to press the issue. "Okay. I'm gonna make us something warm to drink. Just sit on the sofa for a few minutes, okay?" I sat without complaint, and he seemed satisfied. "I'll be right back," he promised.

Then I was alone again.

The silence wasn't good for me. The silence pressed at the insides of my ears in much the same way that the boot had; the same way the shuttle did. My breath hitched as I felt the universe closing in on me, and I thought I might start to hyperventilate. I needed to get out, needed to…

Sounds of domesticity drifted in from the kitchen. Running water filling a kettle. The movement of ceramic on countertops. Shuffling of sturdy feet. Silence held at bay with familiarity.

As my body cooled after the steaming shower, my eyes grew heavy. I slowly slumped on the sofa, inch by inch, until my head was tucked in the crook formed between the armrest and the back of the sofa. I tried to keep my eyes open, but resolved in the end to just close them for a second.

It should come as no surprise that sleep claimed me instantly.

I slept lightly in that odd, liminal space where you aren't quite fully asleep, but know that you're falling asleep; like when you're fighting sleep because you're staying up late watching a movie with friends. You keep hearing lines that are familiar, but the movie goes by a lot faster than it used to.

In one of my brief waking moments, I found that someone had draped a thick blanket over my curled-up form and tucked a fluffy pillow under my head. I sat up slightly, disoriented in the gloom of night, and looked around.

I heard a little hint of a snore, and glanced down. Kazuma was asleep on the floor at the foot of the sofa. He had managed to gather himself a pillow and blanket in the darkness, but the blanket wasn't nearly large enough to cover all of him. My chest felt tight at the sight – he could have taken any of Genkai's empty rooms and slept on a real bed. I didn't have the words for what it meant to me.

I lay back and grabbed the edges of my blanket, pulling them close to my face, and allowed myself to fall fully asleep.

I slept without dreaming, and it was a gift.

* * *

Kazuma wasn't on the floor anymore when I woke up, but I could hear the gentle _clink-shuff_ of someone moving around in the kitchen. Pans moving on worn surfaces. Steam rising. "Kuwabara?" I called gently, pushing the blankets off of myself to stand.

Kazuma's head popped out of the door before I could stand. "Morning! I thought a good breakfast would be nice, but I can't really cook, so…" He handed me a bowl with rice that looked a smidge burnt, with eggs that looked more on the scrambled side on top. Honestly, it looked great.

"Do you need help getting to the table?" he asked, and though my temper sizzled lowly at the idea of needing help I allowed him to help me stand and limp over to the table to eat like a real human being.

"Thank you," I murmured, doing my best to remember my manners. Kazuma glowed with pride and I had to avert my eyes. "I am certain you have somewhere better to be," I rose my voice barely above a mumble as I poked at my breakfast with my chopsticks.

"Nah," he shrugged it off, diving into his own food.

"Your friends will miss seeing you today." I wanted him to leave. I wanted to mourn in silence.

It was his turn for a bitter smile. "Most of my friends are in the Makai now."

"So why don't you join them?"

He set his empty bowl to the side. "I could, but…" He clasped his hands tightly. "I thought about it. If I had, I might not have lost Yukina."

"The girl who left?"

He nodded and a muscle in his jaw twitched. He sighed, and it sounded painful. "I used to think she might come back and see how serious I was about…" He sighed. "I got a message from her not too long after she left – before I _knew_ she had left." He reached into a patch pocket of his t-shirt and pulled out a small piece of folded paper. It looked harmless. "It's why I came to the temple that first time we met. I was hoping to change her mind."

"What does it say?" I was dying of curiosity.

"'I cannot bear to watch you die'." He held the folded piece of paper in his hands. I could see it was worn from many handlings, and the creases were starting to tear. "I think she meant that my life would be so much shorter than hers, as a human. " His gaze was unfocused. "There's a way humans can be made into demons, but it's really dangerous. Toguro did it. It saved Aria's life. It changed Maggie. It can change you, or it might kill you." He shrugged weakly. "So maybe it was that. I don't know."

We were silent for a moment. I didn't know what to say to his ramblings, or even if I was _meant_ to respond. I was developing a new picture of Kazuma in my head, more real and fleshed-out than I had ever realized before. It wasn't like I thought he was a bad person before, but I don't think I knew who he _was_ , really.

Kazuma drew me back into his story as he tapped his fingers against the table. "Not like I couldn't have followed them if I wanted to. It's just…" Kazuma looked up but did not make eye contact. He was staring at the wall over my shoulder as if he could look through it, towards the city. "Then I'd have to leave everyone else behind. So I decided to stay. I make sure no one's birthday gets forgotten, and all the moms get flowers on Mother's Day. Kurama's mom gets letters when he's away, and Keiko, and Yusuke's Mom, too."

Now he looked at me, and my skin flushed at the sudden attention. His lips twitched in a small smile, but it was warm. "When we met – I mean _really_ met, back when I helped you with blankets n' stuff – you just… you looked so _lonely_. You just looked like you knew that the world forgot about you. I guess I know what that's like, and I didn't want you to end up in the place where I did." He was staring intently at his tightly interlocked fingers. "I thought that maybe, I dunno, you could use a friend."

Oh.

 _Oh._

Now my face was really burning, and it was _really_ burning around my eyes. I blinked repeatedly, and stared down at the table for a minute to collect myself. I hadn't expected that.

The picture in my head of Kazuma Kuwabara as a person coalesced into a fantastic tapestry. I hadn't expected it to look so much like my own; he understood me – maybe not my specific experiences, but the overall feeling and the crushing loneliness that followed. He understood the confusion and self-doubt and self-loathing.

He _got_ it.

I cleared my throat a little as it threatened to constrict, and blinked furiously. I reached over and touched his arm lightly, and he glanced up at me with anxiety in his expression. "Thank you for looking out for me, Kuwabara."

He looked relieved, though I didn't know why. And then he smiled – a real, full smile. "Kazuma," he corrected. "We're friends, so you call me Kazuma."

"Okay," I smiled. "So you call me June."

We fell into an awkward silence. We, two new friends, sat on new earth whose hills and mountains were unfamiliar and strange. I broke the weirdly-sustained eye contact, looking down into my empty bowl.

I knew he wanted to ask me about last night – about screaming in the rain, and crying, and the despair. I knew he was too polite to ask. Our friendship was too new for him to press and demand answers, so I would need to offer it.

That was hard.

I cleared my throat and jumped into the icy waters. "I learned something… something bad. I thought I could choose not to use the shuttle, and my life might be long – ah, _longer_. But… because I didn't know much about how I needed to use it, it does not matter now. I have no choice." I couldn't meet his gaze. "There are so many people I should have tried to help."

Kazuma didn't say anything so I chanced a glance, and found him chewing on his thumb in concentration. "Has Master Genkai told you anything about what happened in the Makai?"

I shook my head. A non-sequitur response, but I didn't think that he would mention it if it weren't relevant.

"There's a girl who was hurt really bad," he tapped his head, "in her mind. An old enemy mixed her up really bad and we're not sure there's a way to fix it." He looked down at his hands. "The others aren't telling me much, because there's not much I can do." He looked up at me, warm brown eyes so full of hope. "But I think… maybe you could?" He stammered and hurried to explain. "I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't really important, and especially not since I wouldn't want to put you in a position of choosing a stranger's life over your own."

I wrung the cloth of my sweater in my hand, staring at it as it twisted just like my insides did. "I think you believe I am a better person than I truly am, Kazuma." I berated myself mentally – wasn't this exactly what I said I _should_ have been doing? I had no reason other than habit and blind terror of traveling in portals to base my refusal upon.

"I think it's easy to be scared when you're alone." A hand appeared in my lowered vision – Kazuma, placing his hand on mine. I looked up, startled. His expression was grave. "You're not alone anymore."

* * *

A/N: The Kazuma I imagine for this fic is older, and has had a lot of time to realize exactly how he fits into his friends' lives – that is, after Sensui was defeated, he really _doesn't_. He's a sensitive person, with finely attuned psychic powers, and after a young life of making life-and-death decisions is suddenly expected to just fade back into regular life. All of his friends who could relate basically _left_ , and he had a lot to figure out on his own. The Kazuma I imagine is a man well-aware of himself.

Many thanks to my reviewers: RedPanda923, halem847, InTheArmsofaTheif, and Sanguinary Tide!

 **PLEASE REVIEW**! It gives me life and encourages me to keep writing.


	17. Beyond Repair

_I wrung the cloth of my sweater in my hand, staring at it as it twisted just like my insides did. "I think you believe I am a better person than I truly am, Kazuma." I berated myself mentally – wasn't this exactly what I said I should have been doing? I had no reason other than habit and blind terror of traveling in portals to base my refusal upon._

" _I think it's easy to be scared when you're alone." A hand appeared in my lowered vision – Kazuma, placing his hand on mine. I looked up, startled. His expression was grave. "You're not alone anymore."_

* * *

How could I say no to that?

Kazuma didn't leave me too much time to reconsider after I agreed to try – _try_ – to help this mystery girl. He made a bunch of phone calls in rapid succession that morning, and proceeded to announce to me that we would be ready to travel to the Makai by early afternoon.

" _This_ afternoon?" I cringed internally. I had been hoping for a little more time to come to terms with… well… _everything._

Kazuma nodded, seeming to miss what specific part of his statement had bothered me. "There's a wheelchair waiting for you there – the only way to travel through portal is on foot." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Or flying, which is kinda weird if you think about it."

I looked down. "That might be problem."

"Uh, well," Kazuma flushed a deep red. "If it's okay with you, I was going to carry you."

"Oh." I blinked. "I'm not too heavy?"

He laughed. "Not even close." He stooped to pick me up from my poorly-balanced flamingo stance, and I knew why he had laughed. Kazuma stood as smoothly and as easily as if he had been picking up an empty cardboard box.

I looked to his face and shoulders to see if he was hiding the strain, but it wasn't there. I literally wasn't a burden for the man. " _Krov's molokom_ ," I murmured without thinking.

Kazuma made a weird face. "That definitely doesn't translate. Did I hear it right? Blood and milk?"

I flushed, having forgotten that he was learning Russian. "It means your cheeks are rosy and you are full of strength. It is a… ah, a _compliment_." I was very proud of myself for knowing the right word, so sue me.

Kazuma seemed perfectly happy to stand there with a crazy Czech woman in his arms for the rest of the morning, and my face grew redder at the thought. "Could you put me down, please?"

"Oh, yeah! Sorry, sorry…" Kazuma spluttered, setting me back down swiftly, and I sat back on the sofa.

"I had another idea, maybe, for travelling?" His face grew concerned, and I waved my hand a little to comfort him. "Not that carrying is bad – I don't want the _Portal_. It…" I twirled my hand in a circle, searching for the words. "The portals _scream_ , but Blue did not."

"What are you talking about?" Kazuma stopped mid-motion, staring down at me.

I stopped waving my hand. _Kazuma didn't know_. "Oh. Uh…" I stammered. Unsure about where to even _begin_. "Genkai didn't tell you?"

Kazuma knelt before me to catch my eye. It had been much easier to avoid looking at him when he was still towering above me. "Is it how you hurt your leg?" he asked gently – so gently – that I could only think about how much it must hurt him to have yet more friends keeping secrets, and here he was being so tender with my feelings.

"Yes," I admitted. "I was a coward when I ran from the Spider, and I was a _coward_ when I ran from the… the Woden, and I used Blue to run between," I blurted it out suddenly and felt pinpricks in my eyes. "She took me between the places, and it was awful but there was no _screaming_. I'm sorry now, for the things I haven't done. I'm afraid… but I am ready." I looked into his face and although I still saw confusion, I did not see the judgement I was expecting.

He appeared thoughtful, and with some hesitation reached out his hand and set it atop mine. "Are you okay?" It was such an earnest question, such open honest concern, that I could only nod. I had almost wanted for him to judge me, to be angry as Genkai had been angry. It was easier for me to understand from a behavior standpoint, and I think it was because I was just so used to being on the receiving end of people's anger that Kazuma's acceptance felt so alien.

"I want to try Blue, for the travel between," I declared with more determination.

Kazuma's eyes darted across my face, and he grinned. "Okay then."

* * *

"This is a terrible idea." Genkai stood on the porch with her arms crossed and a dour expression on her face.

"Well, no one asked you," I shot back. My argument was slightly diminished by the fact I was being carried by Kazuma like a toddler into the courtyard (being carried like someone's new bride is not the picture of dignity). "Besides – Kazuma seems to trust me and he's the one that's going with."

"Uh, guys? My Russian isn't so good yet; could we all switch?" Kazuma interjected.

"Sorry, sorry," I apologized, patting one of the arms holding me. "Was very rude." It was so normal that Genkai and I spoke in Russian. It dawned on me briefly that Genkai could very easily force me to switch, but she didn't bother. She spoke to me in the language I found most comfortable.

"Ready?" I asked Kazuma.

He grinned. "Ready to go!" His grin faltered a twitch. "You're sure it's ok that I'm holding you when you turn that thing on?"

I offered him a comforting smile. "It's ok – you won't even notice."

I held the Shuttle in my hand, feeling the bronze grow warmer to the touch as Blue's anticipation grew. I held it close to my face, whispering. _Take us to the Makai, to the third floor of the Palace, in the room with the wheelchair set aside for me, then your permission to use my power ends._

The passing of the human world felt like brushing of a hundred thousand feathers on my skin as Blue rushed to complete the request – to stretch her arms and feel the world around her for _just a moment_. We fell between spaces in the gentlest motion of a rippling tide, and Genkai's surprised expression flickered away like the light of a firefly.

Kazuma's grip on my back and legs tightened almost painfully as we fell – thought it was more like drifting. I could keep my eyes open and it was not void, not a painful emptiness between the living spaces, but like falling through a cluster of stars. It was a nebula, a milky way, and an exploding star. There was a chorus of singing; some disjointed and some harmonious, but all far away.

I glanced up at Kazuma's face and it was… blank. He wasn't looking around, wasn't as amazed as I was by the spinning universes flying by us. He wasn't looking at anything – in fact, his eyes looked unfocused; unseeing.

I opened my mouth to ask _are you alright_ but nothing came out. I couldn't move my hands from their grip around his arm, either. I spotted motion in my lap and it drew my attention. My eyebrows nearly shot off my face in surprise – it was Blue. Or rather, a mini-blue. It was the same high cheekbones and ethereal blue shape, but only four or so inches tall. She looked up at me, and held a finger to her lips in the standard expression for 'shh', as she glanced between me and Kazuma.

I frowned but she smiled and turned her attention to the vastness of the Between around us. She gave a tiny soundless sigh and though her form was miniscule it was impossible to miss the wistful expression on her face.

But I blinked, and the feeling of feathers pressing against my skin returned, slipping across my face and arms and tickling a little everywhere. They felt soft, with a rigid spine, but I knew I would never again be able to find a feather that felt quite the same.

And then the sensation was gone, and with a rush of gravity I knew through closed eyes that we were back in the physical world, though the atmosphere pressed oppressively against my skin with an ill intent.

"You can open your eyes," Kazuma told me, "We're here."

I peeled one eyelid vertically and found a small, slightly dusty, room waiting my arrival. There was what I could only assume to be my wheelchair sitting near the door, though it was a little more ornate and made-of-carved-wood than I was expecting.

"You travel okay?" I asked Kazuma, patting his arm.

He walked over to the chair, setting me down smoothly. The seat was reasonably comfortable. "It was kinda dark," he admitted. "Took less time than normal Portal travel, though."

So he hadn't seen it. Blue clearly didn't want me to tell him, but she couldn't tell me why. I chose to keep my mouth shut and just nodded in agreement.

Kazuma shuddered suddenly, the hair on his arms standing on end and a grimace rushing across his features. "We need to hurry," he said, grabbing the handles on the back of the chair and all but kicking the door open.

"Kazuma!" I cried, gripping the arms of the chair as we sped at a breakneck speed down the hallways.

"You can't feel it, but there's some crazy energy spikes coming from Maggie's room." I turned in my seat to look up at his face and saw strain etched there. He glanced down at me only briefly. "You remember what I told you, right? About the air?"

I nodded, and a bit of hair slapped against my eyes from the speed. "Yes – stay close to the strong; a good aura keeps away air poisoning."

"Good, that's good." He seemed slightly relieved as we took a corner much faster than the designer of the wheelchair could have possibly intended. Kazuma stopped suddenly as an odd tableau was presented.

Two men were in some kind of stand-off in the hallway. One with vibrant, shockingly vibrant red hair and a stance of violent aggression. The second had long black hair, and _are those horns?_ I struggled to count them as my mind _noped_ the fuck out at seeing horns. The horned man seemed barely perturbed by the red-head's aggressive stance.

"Kurama!" Kazuma cried, waving frantically before gripping the handles of the wheelchair to push me closer.

"Kuwabara?" the red-haired man – Kurama, I assume – seemed confused by our presence and some of the tension drained from the air. "What are you doing here?" He looked down at me with the greenest eyes I had ever seen on a living creature.

"Hello," I greeted, but it sounded weak. I steeled myself, straightening my spine. "I am Tkadlec. I have come to fix what was broken."

* * *

It took some fervent and very fast-paced discussion between Kazuma and Kuwabara before the red-head stepped to the side and allowed Kazuma to push me towards the door. Kurama knocked on the door and it opened just a crack. The horned man had lost interest in whatever their argument was as soon as I arrived and had left without even excusing himself. Rude.

A very familiar face greeted me, sending a rock that tasted like regret plummeting deep in my stomach. "Tkadlec," Woden's face was the portrait of relief. "Ye came back."

"Hello," I said weakly.

Kazuma turned me around so that Woden could take the handles of the wheelchair and bring me inside. It felt a lot like I was just being toted around like luggage but I didn't say anything. I owed Woden that much. Kazuma flashed me a thumbs-up and a confident smile right before Woden closed the door.

Once inside the room, Woden knelt briefly to speak to me. His breath, close to my ear, smelled like fresh-cut grass. "Her name is Magnolia Verdandi," he whispered. "They told you she was attacked?" I nodded, and he nodded too as he stood.

He turned me to face the room, which I then realized was _huge_ , with arching ceilings and a set of double doors leading out to a balcony. A woman stood at the exact center of the room, balancing on her toes with her back to Woden and me.

As she swayed slightly from side to side her skirts ruffled in the breeze, the heavy fabric making a sound like the rustling of a bird's wings. Her hair – black, wildly curly – swayed slightly as well. It gave the overall impression that she was made of the motion of water.

"Magnolia?" I asked tentatively.

She turned smoothly and leveled dream-like blue eyes on me. She smiled – open, honest, and warm. "Hello!" she greeted. "Do I know you? Have we met? Are we best friends?" She moved with an ease reserved for young children; untarnished by caution and experience. She strode towards us and her skirt rippled as she sank to her knees next to my chair. "Can we be best friends?"

I was put off by her openness. "Kurama asked me-" I missed Woden's quick shake of caution until it was too late.

Magnolia's joyful ease shattered and rage was suddenly plastered across her face. The air hissed with danger and an angry static skittered through my hair. _"LIAR, LIAR, LIAR!_ " she screamed, picking up a stool from next to her and chucking it at the wall. Woden caught it mid-air and set it down gently.

I opened my mouth to try to comfort the distressed woman, but Woden shook his head. _It'll stop in a minute_ , his face said.

Magnolia continued to scream, beating her hands against the oddly textured walls. _"HE'S A LIAR. ROTTEN, SOUL-FORSAKEN BEAST!"_

 _Ouch._ I cast a glance back towards the door and hoped the poor man couldn't hear her. He probably could, though. What the hell had happened to this girl?

She seemed to run out of energy. She sank to the ground, muttering, panting. _Liar, broken liar, broken broken, tore it apart. Rotten and torn, rotten and torn._

Woden pushed my chair closer when he deemed it safe, and I leaned over the armrest to get even closer. "Magnolia?" I asked.

"Maggie," she whispered back.

"Ok – Maggie it is. Can I take your temperature?" I held out my hand, even though she wasn't looking at me just yet. "Just on the forehead – is that ok?"She nodded, her head lolling to one side as she finally looked up at me sideways. I breathed a sharp sigh of relief.

I took the shuttle from my neck and tucked it into my palm with my thumb. Then, slowly, I pressed my four fingers to her forehead and braced myself for the Pull. I let my gaze slip away, letting the shuttle see for me. My gaze drifted past her physical body, and I could see her tapestry.

It had been beautiful, once. There were huge holes, ripped with a dull blade. Parts had been moved around haphazardly, making it difficult to discern what the original pattern had been. And then – most perplexing of all – parts had been _crossed_. Angry pus-green loathing with loving honey-yellow. White-hot fear crossed and mixed with heather-gray confusion all feeding into burning red rage. It looked like a sick kind of cable-knit sweater, only it wasn't _supposed_ to look like that. Someone had made her hate a thing she loved. Someone made her destroy the things she didn't understand, but made her afraid which just fed back into the cycle again.

I had difficulty figuring out the patterns – they seemed to ripple and change with every sigh, and I realized it wasn't the patterns themselves changing, but multiple _layers_ of patterns pressing up and through and against each other. It took my breath away.

My head twitched to the side as I heard a bird call out sharply nearby. It was distracting and most unhelpful. I removed my hand from her forehead and let Blue's presence drift to the back of my mind. She wasn't fully separated from me, but I didn't want her to go away just yet.

"Poor soul…" I murmured. "Someone broke you. Inside you – tore you apart and mixed you up." I made a tearing motion as best I could. "Broke you apart – understand?"

The woman blinked slowly, and hazy blue struggled to come into focus. "I think I'm missing pieces. Can't finish the puzzle."

"Give me a moment, please." I nodded to Woden and he pushed my chair to the door. I gave him the most encouraging smile that I could as he turned me so that my back was towards the door again, squeezing his huge arm. He returned my smile, his eyes so full of hope that it physically hurt.

I couldn't see when he knocked on the door, and I could only assume it was Kazuma that pulled me backwards into the hallway. I was surprised to find that Kazuma had sprouted another friend in my absence. He was kind enough to introduce the other man briefly as one Urameshi Yusuke.

"How is she?" Kurama interrupted whatever painful small talk typically follows introductions, and I was grateful to get down to business.

"She is very broken." I struggled for the right language, as I was used to conversing with a very small number of people who all understood the limits of my vocabulary. "She has changed very much as a person, more than once, before she was broken?"

"Yes," Kurama confirmed.

I tapped my finger on the armrest, nodding. "Ah – that makes it more difficult. When you change, you make a new pattern. It is hard to see where one thing is supposed to end, and begin, when it was… it was ripped, and parts moved." There was total silence from my audience. "But," I added hastily, "I can fix mostly. There will be places not fixed, where I am not certain what was changed."

"Can't you just change all of it?" Yusuke asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

I nodded. "I could. You would not want me to. It might help make better, or it might turn hair green, or it may destroy her seeing, ah… her sight? I cannot know."

"Do we really trust this kid to understand what's going on?" Yusuke leaned over to whisper none-too-subtly to Kurama. "She can't even explain it."

I lost it. " _Vy razdrazhitel'nyy rebenok; chto vy znayete o tkachestve mira_?" I yelled. "I am still learning Japanese – maybe you should learn manners!"

Yusuke was quick to yell back, leaning forward to sneer in my face. "What did you say to me?"

" _Nadeyus', chto noch'yu vy poteryayete svoi volosy_." I snarled. "Understand this; _YA voz'mu dno yeye dushi i napomnyu yey o tom, kem ona byla. YA poddelayu yeye pamyat' v ogne yeye strastey. YA povtoryu, chto znachit byt' yeyu._ "

"What is she saying?" Yusuke asked Kazuma, clearly frustrated.

Kazuma glanced at me, my hair almost on fire with rage, and back at Yusuke. "Maybe you should ask her – _nicely_. She knows more Japanese than you know Russian, man."

" _dazhe yesli vy zaplatili mne, net_ ," I grumbled, and Kazuma shot me a _look._

" _Pomogi im,"_ he pleaded gently.

There was a warm feeling in my chest that I did not appreciate. " _ya budu,"_ I agreed, but shot a nasty look at Yusuke. _"On mne ne nravitsya._ "

"Hey – is she talking about me again?" Yusuke sneered at me, and I sneered right back.

"I do not like you," I translated. "But I am here to help; help Magnolia."

* * *

A/N: Jesus on a bicycle this chapter is SO LONG. I couldn't figure out where to cut it so I just let it drag ooooooon. Does everyone love that Kazuma clearly spent more time studying Russian? Anywho – a lot just happened, so y'all just let it sink in for a minute.

Welcome back to my WD and PBP readers! I hope you're willing to give this story a chance, and I beg you – BEG YOU – to pick up from the beginning rather than trying to just puzzle it out. This is a really good story and it's worth a real chance.

Many thanks to my reviewers: RedPanda923, Sanguinary Tide, Lian of StormEye, Darkwolf 1689, halem847, and roseeyes!

PLEASE REVIEW!

* * *

EDIT 7/10/18: by popular request, a translation of June's insults are below:

"Do we really trust this kid to understand what's going on?" Yusuke leaned over to whisper none-too-subtly to Kurama. "She can't even explain it."

I lost it. " _Vy razdrazhitel'nyy rebenok; chto vy znayete o tkachestve mira_?" I yelled. "I am still learning Japanese – maybe you should learn manners!" **You are an irritable child; what do you know about weaving the world?**

Yusuke was quick to yell back, leaning forward to sneer in my face. "What did you say to me?"

" _Nadeyus', chto noch'yu vy poteryayete svoi volosy_." I snarled. "Understand this; _YA voz'mu dno yeye dushi i napomnyu yey o tom, kem ona byla. YA poddelayu yeye pamyat' v ogne yeye strastey. YA povtoryu, chto znachit byt' yeyu._ " **I hope that at night you lose your hair. Understand this: I'll take the root of her soul and remind her of who she was. I will forge her memory in the fire of her passions. I will remake what it means to be her.**

"What is she saying?" Yusuke asked Kazuma, clearly frustrated.

Kazuma glanced at me, my hair almost on fire with rage, and back at Yusuke. "Maybe you should ask her – _nicely_. She knows more Japanese than you know Russian, man."

" _dazhe yesli vy zaplatili mne, net_ ," I grumbled, and Kazuma shot me a _look._ **Even if you paid me, no.**

" _Pomogi im,"_ he pleaded gently. **Help them.**

There was a warm feeling in my chest that I did not appreciate. " _ya budu,"_ I agreed, but shot a nasty look at Yusuke. _"On mne ne nravitsya._ " **I will. I do not like him.**


	18. Faded Souls

Between Kurama's ever-ready plants and Woden's coaxing, Maggie had been sent to a dreamless sleep and the weaver-woman had started to work. Safe from Maggie's unpredictable rage everyone had gathered in the back of the room. The energy coming off of the space had set teeth on edge in many, and it provided a small amount of comfort to be able to identify the source. Yusuke lingered at the back of the room with Woden and Kuwabara, while Kurama had opted to sit directly opposite the weaver with Maggie asleep on a bed between them.

It was terrifying to watch the woman work. As her hand rested on Maggie's forehead, the weaver's whole body glowed a soft blue and she drifted in and out of a semi-corporeal state. It was like watching someone pull back and forth at a threadbare fabric.

She hadn't been able to give them a time estimate for her work, only offering a shrug and a consoling grimace. The language barrier was frustrating; the weaver spoke in broken Japanese interspersed with an occasional phrase or word in Russian. She appeared to know and share in his frustration, waving her hand in the air next to her as she searched for the right words. The message had come across, however: _this is incredibly delicate work._

No one dared to breathe too close.

With her attention otherwise occupied, Kurama had taken the time to examine the young legend. If Woden's reverence was any reference, Tkadlec weavers deserved his respect. She was wrapped in such an unassuming package; if not for her missing hand Kurama wouldn't have spared her a second glance on the street. Any power seemed to emanate from the little piece of bronze in her hand, leaving her completely… ordinary. She was a generic human being. _Otherwise disposable,_ said a smooth voice in the back of his mind.

She sighed heavily and sagged backward in her chair as her physical form seemed to stabilize back into normal flesh again. Her brow was furrowed in frustration, and she snarled something in Russian that sounded distinctly like a curse.

Kuwabara appeared at her elbow, holding a glass of water. "You okay, June?" he asked.

"Ah, thank you," she sighed gratefully, gulping down the cool liquid. "Sorry; it is… frustrating."

"Explain it to me," Kurama insisted, ignoring a pointed look from Kuwabara.

Her mouth twitched. "It is difficult to read a poorly patched design. Here-" She held up her hand, miming for Kuwabara next to her to do the same. She interlocked the fingers of his two hands into a mock weaving. "This is your weave – a…ah - a _net_ of emotion gives memory value. If I patch it…" she took one of his hands away and replaced it with her own, "it changes meaning behind memory. Or takes away. Without knowing Maggie well, don't know what used to be. What belongs?" The weaver let their hands fall apart, somehow missing the pink tinge on Kuwabara's face.

Kurama leaned closer to the sleeping demoness, his hands itching to run through her hair. "And what if one did know her well?"

The weaver appeared to consider this. "It could help." She nodded. "Could read similarities in patterns where memories are alike."

"You don't want to take a break or something?" Kuwabara asked as the weaver handed him the glass back. " _Ne obizhaysya._ "

" _Ya ponimayu,_ " the weaver replied, squeezing his hand. "I can do now."

The weaver beckoned for Kurama to come around the bed and stand next to her. "Put hand here," she tapped her shoulder. "Hold tight. Let go is bad." Kurama nodded in understanding.

The weaver hesitated, her hand a few inches above Maggie's forehead. She glanced up at Kurama and the worry was evident in her eyes. "Might be… dis... disorienting?"

"Thank you for your concern," Kurama smiled.

"Not without reason," the weaver retorted curtly. "Hard to describe with… words." She sighed. " _Predstav'te sebe mir bez granits. Predstav'te sebe, chto mir pererabatyvayet sebya, kak kniga, perevorachivayushchaya stranitsy._ " She waved her hand and her eyes glittered. " _Mir poyavitsya v odnom napravlenii, zatem povernite stranitsu i otkroyte novuyu formu."_ Her smile was tight. "Words."

Kurama nodded. He understood. The language barrier was placing him at a distinct disadvantage that the weaver could not prepare him for. "I am ready."

"Breathe," the weaver told him, and her fingertips made contact with Maggie's forehead.

The world went dark. No – the world went _black_. Not black like a dark night, but black like _no light whatsoever._ Kurama's pulse skyrocketed and his legs tensed, ready to run. Had the weaver blinded him? His head whipped from side to side, trying to find orientation in the pressing dark. Without a reference, his brain was insisting _we've been poisoned_ and nausea bubbled in his stomach.

"Kurama," a warm voice called to him. "Breathe."

He paused, then took a shallow breath.

He felt moderately better.

"Open your eyes. Take a moment and really _think_ about the action," the voice commanded with surprising calm.

Kurama centered himself; knowing he was not alone in the darkness provided some comfort. He took another breath and focused his thoughts on _open my eyes._

The pressing dark pushed back a little, and the form of the weaver appeared before him. Her back was to him, as she had been in the Palace, but she was standing now. She turned her head to look at him. "There you go. You can let go of my shoulder – we're still connected in the physical world, so it makes no difference here." She grinned. "I promise I won't lose you."

Kurama released her shoulder and flexed his fingers to release some stiffness that had gathered. "Your Japanese…" he started.

The weaver snorted in a chuff of laughter. "Subconscious thought has no language." The weaver raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever experienced a language barrier in a dream? It is based on the intent of thought, and the image we have of ourselves and others."

Kurama glanced at the weaver; she had turned to face him and he was struck by the peculiarity of her form. "And yet you still have only one hand."

She did not look at her stump. "It's true. It is… what I am. I can't really remember being different, so it is the image I have of myself." She gestured widely to her body.

He glanced at her feet, shocked to find them more translucent than the rest of her form. He looked down at his own feet, finding them as solid and vibrant as the rest of him. Kurama offered the weaver a quizzical look.

The weaver followed his gaze. "Ah yes – _that_. It's, uh… a side effect." A thought flickered across her face, and she rushed to add "You don't have to worry – you're not here in the same way that I am – I just brought your mind."

That wasn't where his train of thought had been headed, but it was comforting nonetheless. "Are you alright?"

She waved the concern away with a hand. "Nothing you need to worry about at this particular moment." She coughed once, like a social tic. "Anyway – we should get going. I wanted to give you some time to adjust before I opened up Maggie's mind."

The weaver's image closed her eyes, and the world spun on its axis at their feet while somehow pulling them _through_ the same axis as well. With a lack of orientation or horizon it was only perceptible through the lurching feeling in Kurama's stomach and the singing of his inner ear, but it was a strong sensation.

As the sensation intensified a glimmer of light appeared in the distance, launching towards them with incredible speed. _No – that is not what's moving_ , Kurama realized. Just as Kurama was concerned that they would be dashed against the light like water on rocks their speed reduced. They arrived smoothly, like walking off of a moving walkway at the airport, at the source of the light.

It was a cable. A cable made of smaller intertwined cables all made of a pulsing, golden yellow light. He looked it up and down, and the cable extending up and down into the infinite below their feet and above their heads. "What is it?" Kurama asked.

"This is a memory," the weaver explained. "This one is isolated – or rather, I'm blocking everything else for the moment for ease of explanation."

"By all means, continue," Kurama urged.

The weaver stepped closer to the cable. "There are specific memories that seem to have been tampered with." She teased out a tiny, tiny thread of a furious green from the thick cable of yellow. "This clearly doesn't belong – it was seeded here, and as she revisits the memory it spreads. But…" she yanked hard at the thread, and it came free, "this is easy to separate."

Kurama had expected the thin thread of green to vanish when she pulled it out, but instead, it writhed in her hand. The weaver gripped it tightly, and it shuddered violently before wrapping around her wrist like a constricting snake. She winced slightly but that seemed to be her goal as she did not try to remove it from her person.

"You don't destroy the memory?" Kurama asked.

"I don't recommend it. Removing memories – even if they are false – would likely lead her to seek them out again in an attempt to fill the hole they leave behind." Her face was grim. "Madness begets madness."

"You've done this before." It was intended to be a question but came out more as a statement.

"Once. It didn't work." She glanced at Kurama, offering a comforting smile. "I was much younger then."

"What happens to the memory, then?"

The weaver's grim expression flickered to one a sly Youko would have been proud of. "I leave them with the lies." She waved her hand a little. "Can't you remember all the bitter, painful lies you've been told in your life?"

The weaver flexed her fingers and the coil around her arm twisted tighter. "That's the general idea of what I'm doing. Now that you know that… I can show you the real problem."

It was like a veil was lifted, or a curtain opened, or the weaver just opened his eyes. The single cable before them multiplied; doubled, quadrupled, branched and spread around them and the light pulsed brighter and brighter.

The closest physical description might be standing inside a massive multi-level library, where the rows were swaths of rippling light, and the books were individual threads of specific color or pattern or shape dancing in their own distinct fashion. The overall effect of blinding, flickering, writhing lights was not too far from standing inside of a huge forge, with bright, hot lights all around. It was painful to behold.

More disorienting, the larger patterns and cables seemed not to be fixed to a specific space, but flickered in and out of position, some switching faster than he could think. But there were links between some – ribbons of red and white and yellow – crisscrossing overhead and around them and below his feet.

As he gaped, the weaver took a sharp step backward, seizing his elbow and yanking him back as well. A lightning-fast thread of light shot past them, connecting two cables that had previously been moving independently. Kurama didn't want to know what might have happened if their forms had intercepted the bolt.

"How am I to know what belongs?" the weaver asked softly. "This is the root of her madness – she cannot distinguish within her own mind what thoughts and feelings are true."

"Where do we start?" Kurama asked. It was part question, part rhetorically overwhelmed.

"We begin with the change."

* * *

A/N: Now we have an idea of what June sees inside your head!

Many thanks to my reviewers: Miqila, halem847, Sanguinary Tide, Toria-of-fiction, roseeyes, and Searece !

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**

* * *

 **Russian translations:**

* * *

"You don't want to take a break or something?" Kuwabara asked as the weaver handed him the glass. " _Ne obizhaysya._ " **No offense.**

" _Ya ponimayu,_ " the weaver replied, squeezing his hand. **I understand.**

* * *

"Not without reason," the weaver retorted. "Hard to describe with… words." She sighed. " **Imagine a world without borders. Imagine that the world is reworking itself, like a book turning pages."** She waved her hand and her eyes glittered. " **The world will appear one way, then turn the page and open a new form."** Her smile was bitter, and tight. "Words."


	19. Forging Fires

_**Previously, in Weaver's Hands…**_

 _As he gaped, the weaver took a sharp step backwards, seizing his elbow and yanking him back as well. A lightning-fast thread of light shot past them, connecting two cables that had previously been moving independently. Kurama didn't want to know what might have happened if their forms had intercepted the bolt._

" _How am I to know what belongs?" the weaver asked softly. "This is the root of her madness – she cannot distinguish within her own mind what thoughts and feelings are true."_

" _Where do we start?" Kurama asked. It was part question, part rhetorically overwhelmed._

" _We begin with the change."_

* * *

I took a moment to collect myself as we stood in the ante-chamber of Maggie's memories, staring out at the rippling fabric. Kurama followed as I brushed my hand against the closest waterfall of color, letting sensations and emotions tickle on my fingers.

"What are all of the rows?" Kurama asked, his question interrupting my focus.

"Rows?" I glanced back, and followed his attention to the rippling fabric around us. "Ah – they're not rows," I corrected. "Those are folds." They did kind of look like rows, so I could understand the confusion.

"Folds – like in fabric?"

I nodded. "Exactly like fabric." I wanted to expand on the description, but wasn't sure how far his curiosity went.

Kurama answered that question swiftly with one of his own. "So what are the – forgive me, they look like ribbons?"

I smiled. "They do look like it, don't they? Those are… how should I put it…" I tapped my finger on my chin. "That's where she's relating one memory to another – they're not memories of their own, but like when you realize you've been in a room before, or what foods you like, or what people you don't." I patted the fold in front of me. "The folds are formed from those relative relationships – pulling sections closer or letting them drift further apart to make spaces like where we stand. I hope that makes sense."

He nodded absently. "It helps."

I chewed my lip, nodding with him. "The real problem here is that, unlike the example I gave you, very little here is truly artificial. Whoever did this damage seeded feelings from other places, or drew out minor feelings while suppressing large ones."

Kurama raised one perfect eyebrow. "I feel as though you're being deliberately vague."

He was right – I was trying to avoid hurting his feelings. "Fine. Follow me." We crossed the empty center space and approached a large fold; a rippling field of honeyed yellow affection shot through with heather-gray confusion and hot red rage. I pressed my hand against the tapestry, pausing for a moment to appreciate the patterns I found there. "This is some of her feelings for you, Kurama."

A sharp intake of breath followed. "How do you know?" he asked softly.

With very little effort I summoned Blue in the form of a left hand, and pressed that glowing hand straight into the rippling field of light. The tapestry shuddered, and the patterns shifted as they began to form a more familiar image like a detailed medieval tapestry, but _alive_. As the patterns moved, cleared, and coalesced into a sharp image, I tried to explain. "If you were me right now, with your hand in here, you would be able to feel the emotion associated with the image."

The image coalesced into a face, all in shades of gold, but still instantly recognizable as Kurama. It moved like a movie projected at a drive-through theater, except that it was formed from tiny motions of woven threads rippling to and fro. The image of Kurama in front of us was speaking, and the sound rang deeply around us. _Tell me how to help you; I don't know what to do._ The sound did not echo, as it might have in the physical world, but felt close to the heart.

With blue's hand in the tapestry, leaving me exposed to the emotional onslaught of Maggie's feelings, it hurt me to speak. "Maggie's very angry in this memory, but I don't know if it's justified."

"It was." Kurama confirmed tightly.

I could see the honesty and regret in his face. But more importantly, from my experience with tainted memories I could confirm it as the truth. I withdrew blue's hand from the memory and the image faded away. The voice stopped. My feelings returned to being my own. "Good."

"Good?" Kuram's eyes narrowed. "Please explain how that is a good thing?"

"It means you don't lie to me." I grimaced. "Now, I do hope you'll forgive me."

"For what?" Kurama watched me with slightly narrowed eyes.

"For misleading you." I unwound the coil of false memory from around my wrist took both ends of the memory's thread in my hands – one human, one blue – pulling it taut in front of me. "Don't try to stop me."

I could hear that Kurama was about to ask what he wasn't supposed to stop when the memory burst into flames. He cried out, but faithfully stood his ground. The flames grew at a spectacular rate as they threatened to consume me.

Just when I thought Kurama might move – if the distress on his face was any indication – it happened. There was a resounding _crack_ like lightning in the air, and the ribbon split in two in my hands. Light poured out and went streaking above my head. It zipped around, like a fox released from a trap, before vanishing into a fold far above my head.

It seeded flames all around the tapestry of Maggie's mind, tracer fires in the darkness revealing folds thousands deep in her mind. The fire roared and crackled, the connections in Maggie's memories withering in the heat.

A million threads waved in the air like so many blades of grass in the wind. They pulsed to their own rhythms, to a secret tempo unique to a memory. As the fires died away, and the purest form of the memory was all that remained, they slowed their violent motions. Patterns emerged. First a few threads rippled in time, then a dozen more, then hundreds. I smiled as they grew coordinated, and the threads brushed against other threads, weaving in and out in a new dance.

I moved to stand behind Kurama as he was transfixed by the mesmerizing motion of memory. I placed both hands on his shoulders and that seemed to bring him back. He grew instantly tense, and his voice hissed. "What are you doing?"

"I know you couldn't understand me before, but I hope you will soon." I gripped his shoulders tightly, holding him in place with my will. "Please, don't move." His posture alone telegraphed betrayal. It pulled at my heart with painful recognition. "Have faith," I murmured. "You are safe."

He did not relax one iota, but he did not protest either. I took a deep breath. "I want you to think about when Maggie was attacked. I want you to think about her strange behavior, and how it made you feel." I kept my voice as authoritative as possible. "Focus on the parts of Maggie that weren't Maggie at all."

He was tense under my hands. "What does that do?"

The walls shuddered as they coalesced into Maggie's tapestry once more. But as the purified forms remembered old weaves – older than her false memories – they fit tightly together and pushed out the putrid green, the fearful blacks, and furious reds. These orphaned threads whipped in the air like kite ribbons cut free in the wind. They zipped around overhead, making an odd hissing sound as they tried to worm back into a tight, unyielding weave.

Magnolia Verdandi remembered who she was.

I tightened my grip on Kurama's shoulders and braced my feet on the ground. I knew he couldn't move while my soul held his presence still, but the action was one of self-comfort. "It makes you a lightning rod."

As if on cue, the orphaned memories seemed to realize we were there. The frayed ends turned towards us like serpents' heads, the hissing growing louder. They approached slowly, spiraling and spinning down from above with tentative hesitation. As they grew in numbers they spun together, knotting and tangling and intermingling in a twisted shape one might dare to call animalistic.

The tightly knotted shape landed on four… legs? It crouched in front of us like a predator, a hissing sound coming from the knotted section I had to suppose represented a head. Loose ends writhed and snapped around the shape of its neck and head, looking more like a chimeral medusa than any creature I had ever seen.

"Those are all of the false memories," Kurama realized out loud.

"Yep," I confirmed. "and they all want to eat you alive."

"I would prefer that not happen."

"Have faith," I repeated, while internally I held my breath. _Come on, Magnolia_ , I urged in my head, _see it – I know you have to see it._ The walls around us bent, flexed inward, and folded back on themselves. My grip loosened in relief, and my will over Kurama released. He moved instantly away from me, turning his body so he could watch both me and the ribbon-beast at the same time.

"What have you done?!" He yelled.

"She has to fight her own battles," I replied calmly.

The weaving of Maggie's memories folded crisply in on itself, like oversized origami without an end. It looked like an image being pushed through the other side of a flexible wall, like hands at a haunted house theme park. Instead of hands, though, Maggie's memories folded and flexed into the shape of a giant bird – something corvid, with a long slashing beak and vicious claws.

It filled me with a thrill of fear.

The bird screeched deeply, closer to a roar, and extended woven wings to fill the empty space that Kurama, the chimera, and myself were currently occupying. The shape suddenly burst forth from the tapestry around it, coming to land heavily with a fierce beating of wings. The chimera turned its attention from us to Maggie's bird and tried feebly to hiss a menacing cry.

It made exactly _no_ impression on the bird. With predatory intent the bird descended on the hissing creature and ripped at it with beak and talon. It hissed and fought, knotted legs beating at the tightly woven bird in a final attempt to tear her apart.

Too late, I thought of a question I should have asked before entering Maggie's mind. "Kurama…" I broached the question with little delicacy. "Does Maggie have any powers I should know about?"

"Maggie used to be human, but she was Converted into a demon. She has sound manipulation powers now – what does that matter here?" Now that the bird was tearing apart the apparent threat, he seemed calm.

But I wasn't calm. "'Converted'? What does that mean?" The word itched at me, hinting that it was something important.

"A demon core was sewn into her chest where her heart used to be," he explained, like it was common knowledge.

" _What the fuck?!"_ I yelled. "You don't think you _might_ have mentioned she's had organs _forcibly removed,_ or a _demonic presence inserted_ before I went wandering around in her head?" The walls shuddered – lightning-fast ribbons of light dancing and glancing from side to side of the hall, illuminating the shape of the bird in a way that reminded me a little too much of _Jurassic Park_. A tight peal of a bell was struck overhead, like a gong or a huge clock tower.

The corvid finished with the beast made of false memories, and started eating the shredded pieces like worms from wet soil. I felt a sense of satisfaction trying to break through my growing anxiety, that I had triggered her internal defenses, but the bell tolled overhead again, but louder.

"I apologize if my failing to disclose Magnolia's entire medical history has somehow inconvenienced you." Kurama's voice nearly dripped with disdain.

 _Son of a whore, he really doesn't realize._

"You don't know the danger you've put us in." I spun, eyes wide with fear. The bell tolled, and the corvid lifted its head from the massacred beast on the ground to stare at us. At least, I assume it was watching us. It didn't have true eyes to speak of; it was made of a colorful, rippling weave of emotions that only _resembled_ a bird.

" _Go_ ," I commanded, and without waiting for a response I placed blue's hand on Kurama's chest and pushed his presence out of Maggie's mind.

* * *

A/N: Hey readers! I added some fun stuff to my profile – songs! I have a bit of music I use to channel each character so now you can play each piece over and over just like meeeeee

I do apologize that this chapter has taken forever to come out, but I very recently changed the entire path this was going to take, and it desperately needed it.

Many thanks to my reviewers: Miqila, Sanguinary Tide, typiicaltaylor, Sweet Springs, roseeyes, PondRiverWilliams, mia (guest), Searece, Guest, Ravyn Moon 1313, and Hyphen (guest)!

 **PLEASE REVIEW!**


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